


He's a Sourwolf but He's My Sourwolf

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Lives, Allison is a Disney Princess, Alpha Derek, Awesome Boyd, Bad Puns, Banshee Lydia Martin, Basically everybody is sassy and gay af, Derek Actually Wins a Fight For Once, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Isaac is a Little Shit, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia Martin Is So Done, Lydia is Perfect, Lydia is a Good Friend, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Protective Isaac Lahey, Sassy Allison, Sassy Erica, Sassy Lydia, Sassy Peter Hale, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall Disapproves, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles, Stiles is kinda magical, They'll fuck eventually, bad words children cover your ears, basically everybody loves Stiles like Stiles loves curly fries, because sassy katniss is a must, but not really??, but only Derek get's a taste, but who gives a fuck, cause lets be honest Derek with red eyes is hot af, cause ya know, idk how to tag it, like he'll stay alpha, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idk wtf to title this fic if I'm being perfectly honest. It's basically Teen Wolf where Stiles can see and kinda sorta talk to ghosts and kinda sorta has a few powers but not a lot and he realizes early on that he's hella gay for a certain green eyed hunk who has the habit of slamming him into walls, working out in tight jeans but without a shirt, and brooding. Very obviously follows the Teen Wolf plot line (like hella strictly (like seriously it's essentially just teen wolf seasons 1-3.25 until like chapter 11/12)) until it very obviously doesn't (trust me you'll know when the fic reaches that point). If anybody actually reads and likes this I'll be updating every Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Season One, Episode One (AKA All These Words But A Henley Is Only Seen Once AKA A Surprising Lack Of Derek)

    Stiles first sees her as he’s typing furiously on his laptop and printing things with a nervously shaking foot. Well, she _appears_ in his room for the first time while he’s doing so. It scares the shit out of him, because a new spirit means somebody recently died. And, if her god awful wounds are anything to go by, it wasn’t a natural, peaceful death. “Oh, holy shit!” Stiles swears, jumping about five feet off of his desk chair. “Wh-Who the hell are _you_? Why are- Oh god you're-” Stiles totally isn’t queasy at the sight of blood, but organs and rippings wounds _definitely_ don’t help his stomach settle. Especially not ones that wrap around somebody’s entire torso like they’d been cut in two.

    The girl- woman? - is pale and speechless and she looks _terrified_. It only lasts for a few moments before she schools her expression almost completely as she turns to Stiles. Her mouth moves in silent words, and Stiles lets out an aggravated sound, getting up and shoving papers around. The woman tries to grab his shoulder, but she stumbles forwards and bumps the desk, sending some papers to the floor. Stiles turns slightly, and she looks angry and confused, her mouth still moving, but she’s mumbling by the way Stiles can’t make out a single word she’s saying.

    “Okay-Okay hold on I just- I can’t hear you, alright? I can’t hear a _word_ you’re saying and you’re getting annoyed and then you’ll get pissed and a pissed ghost is never good for my health so just- So just calm down I gotta find the- uh- ouija board thing my mom had…” Stiles trails off, pausing as the woman is able to  pick up the papers and put them on his desk. A _very_ powerful ghost effortlessly. That’s… That’s not natural. She pauses as she sees what’s on them, her pale eyes narrowing. “Do you.. Do you know something about that?” Stiles asks, holding his ouija board close to his chest.

    The woman says something, but then she remembers that Stiles can’t hear her. She nods slowly, seemingly not wanting to admit it. “Oh- Oh thank God. My friend- My friend Scott he-he-he-he has this _thing_ going on with him, yeah? I- It started because I’m a _dumbass_ and there was half a body found in the woods, and I wanted to look for it with him, yeah? So we were looking around but I got caught by my dad, the sheriff, who was at the crimescene. Scott got away and he says he got attacked by-by this _wolf_ thing, but when he took off the bandages he’d put over it the cuts were gone?”

    The woman is staring at Stiles’ chest, and the teenager narrows his eyes before remembering the damn ouija board thing his mom made when he was really little. “Oh. Yeah, I just gotta…” Stiles lights a few black and violet candles, placing them around the board before he places the planchette down on _HELLO_. “Okay so basically, it’s a juiced up ouija board, yeah? I can- uh- ask a question, and you’ll be able to right out the answer, or finish a word and then speak the rest. I gotta write down everything we say on this pad of paper, so don’t talk too fast because I have problems with just jotting down _notes_ in _class_ but that might just be because the class is damn boring but, uh, yeah.”

    Stiles clears his throat. “What’s your name?” He asks, serious now as he writes down his question in his own version of shorthand. The planchette moves quickly across the letters. _L-A-U-R-A_ there’s a pause as Stiles glances at his paper to get the pen on a line before he starts writing, turning back to the board. _H-A-L-E_ Stiles pauses, his eyes widening a bit. “Hale? Like, family house burned to a crisp in the middle of the woods Hale?” Stiles says, wincing at the glare he receives. “Yeah, sorry. Not a good way to, uh, phrase that. No mind to mouth filter.” Stiles makes a brief circle motion with his pen before he writes down the woman’s last name. She’s watching him expectantly.

    “So my- my friend, you know, Scott, he said he was… It was either clawed or bitten by this wolf thing. But the wounds are gone, completely gone. Like they never existed, not even a scar. Not one. But- But something’s really different about Scotty, yeah? I mean, he’s going on about how he can hear things and smell things that he shouldn’t be able to and I had him tune into a conversation to see if he was actually serious but he can actually _hear_ it and I’m like _fiftythousandpercentsurethatit’slycanthropybutthat’snot_ _possible_.” Stiles rushes out in one breath, eyes wide.

    The planchette trembles slightly as Laura tries to move it, but she can’t because Stiles hasn’t asked a question. She bites the inside of her cheek noticeably in annoyance, and Stiles winces slightly. “Sorry, I-I babble a lot when I’m nervous and it’s understandable that I am because nobody new has popped up because of a message or something since your house burned down but I wasn’t able to deal with them so I just sent them to the other side or wherever they go and-” Laura actually looks kind of worried, so Stiles takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and shakily before he opens his eyes. He doesn’t remember closing them. “Sorry. Sorry.” Stiles murmurs.

     _Breathe deeply, kid. Calm down._ The woman mouths, making sure to pronounce her words in a way that helps Stiles see them. Stiles does as the woman orders, mumbling angry about how there’s no way she’s much older than he is.

    “Okay. Sorry. Thank you. Am-Am I right? Is Scott a werewolf?” Stiles asks, and the planchette moves to _YES_ quickly. Stiles feels like he’s been punched in the gut but he powers through the feeling to his next question. “Are _you_ a werewolf?” The planchette moves off of _YES_ and then back onto it. “You-You were murdered, weren’t you. Those wounds, they aren’t natural.” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but the planchette moves to _NO_ anyway. “Was- Were you killed by the same person who changed Scott?” _YES_ “Who i- _Shit!_ ” Stiles jumps to his feet, moving the planchette to _GOODBYE_ quickly as he packs things up and hides them, blowing out the candles and putting them back into the bag with the others once he’s sure they won’t melt or set anything on fire.

     _What’s going on?_ Laura mouths, looking confused.

    “My dad’s home. He doesn’t like it when I use the ouija board thing because he thinks it’s a load of bull. He already thinks I’m crazy, so try not to do anything that I have to talk to you about when he’s within hearing range. I.. aaand you’re gone.” Footsteps thunder up the stairs, not loud because of anger but because the sheriff is just a heavier man. Stiles opens his window, fanning the scent of the candles out as he lights a regular cinnamon apple one. Stiles shoves all the papers he found into a backpack and he closes all the other tabs he had open, leaving an essay up as his dad opens the door. “Dad, hey. What’s up?”

    “Just checking up on you. Why are you up so late?” The sheriff asks, and Stiles narrows his eyes.

    “It isn’t that- It’s already midnight?!” Stiles cuts himself off with the exclamation, his eyes widening. “I mean, it’s not like this is an uncommon thing to happen to me but it was _just_ seven o'clock!” Stiles shouts spinning around in his chair.

    “Are those things due tomorrow?” The older man asks his son, and Stiles turns to look at what he has pulled up.

    “No. Closest one is due… In three days. Wait no, there’s a weekend between…”

    “Go to bed, Stiles. And blow out that candle, you’ve nearly burned down the house with one of those.” Stiles almost winces outright at the words, but he just covers up a deep, calming breath with a yawn.

    “I- Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Dad.” Stiles mumbles, closing his laptop with a huff. He flops onto his bed, and his dad leaves, closing the door behind him. Stiles grumbles about lights, glaring at the lightswitch like it’s personally offended him. He sighs heavily, moving to climb out of bed. He jumps as the lights suddenly go out. “Uh.. Thanks, Laura?” Stiles murmurs, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable.

 

***

 

    Stiles is back on his computer, his hands trembling from all the damn adderall he’s taken, when there’s a heavy pounding on his door. He pauses, closing his laptop before he gets up and clears his throat. He opens the door quickly, pausing as he sees Scott. “Get in, you gotta see this thing.” Stiles orders, closing the door behind his best friend. “I’ve been up all night, reading websites, books, all this information.” He starts.

    “How much adderall have you had today?” Scott asks, causing Stiles to pause.

    “...A lot. Doesn’t matter.” Scott grins, and Stiles rolls his eyes. “Okay, just listen.”

    “Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?” Scott asks as Stiles turns to face him.

    “What? No, they’re still questioning people.” Stiles mutters, shuffling around a few papers somewhat nervously because he’s gonna sound batshit insane right now. “Even Derek Hale.” Stiles adds, pausing as he puts two and two together. He mentally slaps himself for _just now_ realizing Laura is Derek’s sister.

    “It’s not about what we saw in the woods the other day?”

    “N-Ye- I don’t know, maybe- Just-” Stiles cuts himself off with an annoyed sound.

    “What then?”

    “You- You remember that joke I made the other day? Not a joke anymore.” Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. It’s obvious Scott doesn’t realize what he’s talking about, and he leans forwards a bit. “The wolf, the bite in the woods. I started doing all this reading- Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

    “Should I?” Scott asks, a bit of sass coloring his tone.

    “It’s a signal, okay? Wh-When a wolf’s alone it howls to signal its’ location to the rest of the pack.” Stiles explains. “So-So if you heard a wolf howling maybe there’s others. May-Maybe an entire pack.” Stiles starts to trip over his words as he tries to get them out as quickly as possible. Scott looks worried now, and Stiles thinks he _might_ be getting it until he opens his mouth.

    “A whole pack of wolves?”

    “Wha- No. Werewolves.” Stiles says because to him it’s _obvious_. He was actually doing something productive and important until _midnight_ last night so he actually knows what he’s talking about. Scott looks annoyed, and he shoves himself onto his feet.

    “Are you seriously wasting my time with this?” The boy questions, glaring a bit at Stiles. “Y-You know I’m picking Allison up in an hour-” Stiles puts his hands up to stop his friend as Scott picks up his backpack.

    “I saw you out on the field today, Scott. Okay? Wh-W-What you didn’t wasn’t just amazing, alright? I mean, it was impossible.” Scott stares at Stiles for a few moments, doubt flickering in his eyes.

    “Alright? So I made a good shot.” Scott says, moving to go. Stiles tries to shove him back.

    “Nonono! You made an incredible shot! I mean, the way you moved! Your speed, your reflexes?! You know, people can’t just suddenly do that overnight.” Stiles is breathing a bit heavily, standing between Scott and the door. “A-A-And there’s the _vision_ and the _senses_ and don’t even think I don’t notice that you don’t need your inhaler anymore.”

    “Okay, dude! I can’t think about this right now. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” It feels like Stiles has been drenched with ice cold water, and he moves to stop Scott again.

    “Tomorrow?!” He exclaims, “What? No! The full moon is _tonight_. Don’t you get it?” Stiles asks, and Scott starts getting angry.

    “What are you trying to do?! I-I just made first line, I got a date with a girl wh-who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?!” Stiles rummages through the papers on his desk before he finds the right one and holds it in one hand as he turns and faces Scott.

    “I’m trying to _help_.” Stiles says, ignoring the pained twist he feels inside because he can deal with shitty feelings later.”You’re cursed, Scott. Y-You know and it’s not just the moon calling you to physically change. It also happens to be the time when your bloodlust will be at its’ peak.” Stiles leans back in his chair.

    “Bloodlust.” Scott totally doesn’t believe him. This-This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Scott was supposed to show up and listen to Stiles and believe his best friend and _why the hell is he completely ignoring everything Stiles is saying?_

    “Yeah, Scott. Your ‘urge to kill’.” Stiles defines the word somewhat unhelpfully. Scott takes a deep breath, giving away his anger.

    “I’m already feeling an urge to kill, Stiles.” Scott says, obviously not meaning it in the way Stiles is trying to explain what he’s _going to_ feel.

    “You gotta hear this.” Stiles turns and grabs a book he’d opened early this morning. “The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.” He closes the book sharply, turning to Scott. “Alright, I’ve seen it, and I know that _nobody_ raises your pulse like Allison does.” Stiles stands, his hands up. “You gotta cancel this date.” The teenager moves to the bag that’s on the bed. “You gotta call her right now.”

    “What are you doing?” Scott asks as Stiles pulls out his phone.

    “I’m canceling the date-”

    “Nonono- _Give it to me!_ ” Scott snaps, and Stiles is suddenly grabbed the shirt, spun around, and slammed against the wall angrily. His hands move up to protect his face, and Scott is breathing heavily with a raised fist. He lets out an enraged shout, spinning and hitting Stiles’ chair hard enough for it to fall and slide to the _other side of the room_. The two are breathing heavily, Stiles in, he’ll never admit it, _fear_ and Scott in anger.

    Scott calms down almost immediately when he looks at Stiles, and the teenager tries to school his expression as quickly as possible. “I’m- I’m sorry…” It’s silent for a few moments. “I-I-I gotta go get ready for the party.” Stiles stays where he is as Scott walks over to his bed and puts on his backpack. The pale teenager is trying not to have a panic attack, and Scott pauses at the door before he leaves. “I’m sorry.” Scott repeats himself, like that’s gonna help anything. Stiles doesn’t look him in the eye, staring at the door only after Scott is long gone.

    “Fuck.” Stiles hisses, slamming his head against the wall. He moves slowly, grabbing his chair and picking it up. “ _Fuck_.” There are long claw marks down the back of the chair. “That _moron!_ ” Stiles snaps, hitting a water bottle that was sitting innocently on his desk until he saw it. “He’s gonna- He’s gonna hurt himself. I can’t- _Fuck!_ ” Stiles kicks at his chair, quickly getting out of his PJs to go to the local library.

 

***

 

    “Wha- Laura?” Stiles asks, staring at the two books that had fallen to the floor. There’s about five other _thunks_ in nearby isles and Stiles moves quickly to pick the books up. “How- How the hell are you _here_?” Stiles mutters before he remembers she’s a damn werewolf and her ghost is a _lot_ stronger than a normal, human one. “Oh, nevermind. Thank you.” Stiles says to the open air, feeling awkward as he quickly picks up the dropped books.

    Stiles checks the books out quickly, grabbing about thirteen five-subject notebooks and a bunch of random things from the nearby craft store before he heads home. He takes a picture of every page of each book, uploading them to his laptop. He’s putting the books in a neat pile by his door when his laptop vibrates. Stiles narrows his eyes, turning to look at the screen. The pictures have all been put into thirteen different pictures, and Stiles finds each labeled with a number with words, paragraphs, definitions, statistics, and drawings highlighted. Stiles lets out a whistle.

    “Damn, Laura. Thanks. You need to be careful, though. A human spirit is only allowed to perform seven favors, and I think you’re already on three. You probably have more than a human ghost, though. I’m guessing seventeen to twenty-three favors?” Stiles whispers to the empty room. Of course, there’s no response. The teenager just huffs, pulling out his favorite mechanical pencil and getting to work on the notebooks. He glances at a clock about five hours later. He’s only finished about a quarter of the first notebook, but it’s almost time for the party, and he’s gotta be there to help Scott.

    “What to wear, what to wear.” Stiles mumbles as he rummages through his closet. Thankfully, Laura doesn’t decide that party clothes are something that she needs to use one of her favors for.

 

***

 

    Stiles wasn’t looking to hot when he left the party, so he looked around for Allison quickly. If Scott’s gonna risk his damn life to go out with the girl, the least he can do is try and protect her. Stiles jogs out to the front lawn, and he frowns as he sees Allison climb into a black Camaro. Usually when Stiles feels somebody watching him, he blames it on some stupid paranoia that probably comes with his ADHD or something like that. He isn’t sure. But he realizes _now_ that the eyes he’d felt watching him almost the entire time he’s been at the party were actually a _very_ green pair that really did exist.

    Derek Hale raises a brow at Stiles in a ‘how were _you_ invited to this party’ kind of way, and Stiles frowns at the feeling that shoots through him. He starts walking towards Allison, but Derek gets into his car, starts the engine, and pulls away. Stiles swears violently before getting into his jeep and driving off to Scott’s house. “Stiles?” Melissa answers the teen’s knocking.

    “I left some things here last weekend. Sorry if I woke you, but they’re kinda important.” Stiles says, proud that he doesn’t trip over any words. Melissa smiles at Stiles, opening the door more.

    “It’s not a problem, Stiles. Just- Next time do it… Not at midnight.” Melissa says.

    “Thank you. I really am sorry.” Stiles says honestly, and Melissa nods.

    “Just lock the door when you leave.” Melissa says, and Stiles nods, waiting for her to close her room’s door before he heads up to Scott’s room. He pounds on the door.

    “Go away!” Scott shouts, and Stiles bites the inside of his cheek.

    “Scott? It’s me.” Scott opens the door slightly, and Stiles can hear him breath heavily as he tries to open the door more. “Let me in! Scott, I can help.” Stiles says, his heart pounding as his friend doesn’t answer right away.

    “No. Listen, you gotta find Allison.” Scott is breathing heavier now.

    “She’s fine a-alright? I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s totally fine, alright?” Stiles shuts up as he starts babbling.

    “I think I know who it is.” Scott says, and Stiles’ brows furrow.

    “Wh- Just let me in! You-”

    “It’s Derek. Derek Hale is the werewolf. He’s the one that bit me, the one that killed the girl in the woods!” Stiles ignores the way that something falls nearby, thinking it’s just Melissa accidentally knocking something over while half-asleep. He pauses at the words, looking down at the bedroom floor visible through the cracked door.

    “Scott.” He _really_ shouldn’t tell Scott this. “Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party.” It’s silent for a good five seconds before the door is slammed shut easily, nearly sending Stiles flying.The teen slams his body against the door, and then his hand. “Scott?! Fuck!” Stiles runs down the stairs quietly, slowing and smiling at Melissa as she goes back into her room with a cup of water.

    “See ya, Stiles.”

    “Goodnight, Melissa.” Stiles runs to his car as soon as he locks the door, speeding to the Argent house. He rings the doorbell a few times, breathing a bit heavily because he may play lacrosse but he is _not_ built for running this fast this long. He knocks when he doesn’t get an answer right away. “C’mon, come on.” Stiles mutters, and the door opens quickly, and annoyed woman with short red hair answering. “Hi, Mrs.Argent. You have no idea who I am I’m a friend of your daughter’s. Um, look this is gonna sound kinda crazy, really crazy, actually. You know what-” The woman looks confused as she turns slightly.

    “Allison? It’s for you.” She says, cutting Stiles off. Said girl appears at the top of a staircase, looking down at Stiles over the railing.

    “Oh, thank God. I’m- I’m so sorry Scott just wanted me to make sure you got home safely, ya know. He feels real bad about having to go, but I _swear_ it was important and he wasn’t able to check up on you himself so he sent me.” Stiles says quickly, nearly tripping over his words quite a few times.

    “Oh yeah, is he okay?”

    “Yes- Well, no. Kinda.” Allison looks worried and Stiles cusses himself out mentally. “He’s not, like, in the hospital or anything, but he’s not doing well, you know?” Stiles says, and Allison lets out an understanding noise. Since when has Stiles been so good at lying straight to people’s faces?

    “Ah, alright. Will he be okay on Monday?” Allison asks, and Stiles nods, shakes his head, and then shrugs.

    “I-I’m sorry. I really don’t know.” Stiles answers honestly. Allison takes a deep breath and then nods.

    “Tell him- Tell him that I say it’s okay. I’d rather him be at home getting better than at a party.” Allison says, and Stiles nods.

    “Yeah, alright. Have a nice night Mrs.Argent. And Allison. Uh, bye.” Stiles mutters, turning around and heading back to his car. He drives away quickly, nervously tapping the steering wheel and humming back to his house. He doesn’t need to worry about sneaking in, as his dad is working late again, so he just heats up some leftover food and waits, feeling more useless than ever before.

 

***

 

    It’s mostly silent in the jeep, and Stiles looks at Scott every so often, but he stays mostly focused on the road. “You know what worries me the most?” Scott asks, and Stiles narrows his eyes, glancing at him.

    “If you say Allison I’m gonna punch you in the head.” Stiles says, silently adding on the fact that he’s the one risking his ass for him as they speak. But whatever. It’s what they’ve always done.

    “She probably hates me now.” Scott whines, and Stiles lets out a disgusted sigh.

    “I doubt that.” Stiles says, feeling like a damn therapist. “Though you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. I went to her house last night, and implied that you were sick and didn’t want to get her sick or something like that. Or, you know, you could just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf.” Stiles grins, but he drops it with a sigh at Scott’s look. “Okay, bad idea.”

    Scott looks away sadly, and Stiles takes a deep breath. “Hey, we’ll get through this. If we have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights. I’ll even feed you live mice.” Scott looks at him with raised brows, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to laugh or smile. “I had a boa once, I could do it.” Stiles jokes, glancing at Scott again. The other laughs, and Stiles joins him, the joy trailing off into a comfortable silence afterwards.


	2. Season One, Episode Four (AKA Newish Plot Starts At Chapter Eight Good Luck)

    Stiles shoves at Scott’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention. “Derek isn’t the alpha. If he’s not the one who bit you, then who did?” Stiles asks, and Scott shrugs, flailing one hand a bit. He answers without turning to face his friend.

    “I don’t know.” Stiles all but throws his hands in the air in exasperation, leaning back and turning to look out the classroom’s windows in annoyance.

    “Did the alpha kill the bus driver?” Stiles leans forward again.

    “I don’t know.” He leans back _again_.

    “Does Allison’s dad know about the-’’

    “ _I don’t know!_ ” Scott snaps, turning to face Stiles. He turns around again after he notices he dragged attention onto him and Stiles. Stiles’ test gets put on his desk and he picks it up, grinning at the ‘A’ until he hears Scott’s sigh. He looks over his best friend’s shoulder, wincing in sympathy at the ‘D-’ and note written in red.

    “Dude, you need to study more.” Scott throws his paper down on his desk in anger, and Stiles narrows his eyes. “That was a joke.” He deadpans. “It’s just one test, you’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?” Stiles offers.

    “No, I’m studying with Allison after school today.” Scott says, and Stiles raises his brows. He didn’t know Scott had it in him.

    “That’s my _boy_!” He says, and Scott turns his head a bit.

    “We’re just studying.” He says, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

    “No you’re not.”

    “I’m not?” Scott sounds amused.

    “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you. If you go to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity I sw- I swear to God I’ll have you de-ba-”

    “Okay!” Scott interrupts Stiles. “Just- Stop with the questions.”

    “Alright. No more questions. No more talk about the alpha or Derek. Especially Derek.” He adds on as something churns inside of him. It was exactly unpleasant, but Stiles is going to shove that fact to the deepest parts of his mind. Never to be thought of ever again. He does talk about the _bad_ churning though. “Who still scares me.” The way Scott doesn’t respond tells Stiles that he _may have_ put too much truth into those words, so he tries to lighten the mood as he chews on his pen and starts telling Scott about the third time he went camping and a cougar tried to sleep in his tent. While he was still in it.

 

***

 

    Siles climbs into his Jeep, carelessly throwing his backpack into the back of the car as he starts pulling out. He’s at the end of the parking lot when a certain dark haired, green eyed Adonis stumbles in front of his Jeep, one leather-clad arm raised. “Oh- my _God_!” Stiles shouts, nearly swerving as he hits the brakes hard. Derek sways, and Stiles cusses wildly as he hears the honking start. Derek falls over. “You gotta be kidding me, this guy’s everywhere.” Stiles mutters, turning around to glare at the owner of the white car _still_ honking at him Annnd there’s the unwelcomed attention drawn to him once again!

    “What the hell?!” Scott whisper-yells as he runs past Stiles and to Derek. Stiles gets out of the Jeep.

    “I don’t know.”

    “What are you doing here?” Scott asks Derek.

    “I was shot.” Derek pants, and Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. That isn’t good panting, those thoughts need to go away now.

    “Scott, he isn’t looking to hot.” _He’s always ho- Shut_ _up_ _brain!_

    “Why aren’t you healing?” Scott asks.

    “I can’t.” Derek says as Stiles rolls his eyes because obviously the guy would heal himself if he could. Having a bullet lodged in you _can’t_ feel that great. “It wa- It was a different kind of bullet.”

    “A silver bullet?” Stiles asks, because silver is the go-to when it comes to werewolves and mythology. He hasn’t gotten to the werewolf part of his bestiary in progress yet.

    “No you idiot.” Stiles clenches his jaw, but whatever. He should totally know that silver isn’t what affects werewolves. Werewolves should’ve been the first thing he put in his beginning bestiary.

    “Wait, wait… That’s what she meant when you had forty-eight hours!” Scott says, like that helps anybody.

    “What? Wh-Who-Who said forty-eight hours?” Derek asks.

    “Who shot you?” Derek grimaces, and when he opens his eyes they’re glowing a mix of ice and cyan. “What-What are you doing? Stop that!” Scott can be a dumbass at times, Stiles will be the first to admit it.

    “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Derek huffs, “I can’t!”

    “Derek, get up!” There’s a constant stream of honks behind the three, and some get out of their cars to see what the hell is going on.

    “We’re putting him in your car.” Scott says, and he’s already helping Derek to the passenger seat, so Stiles doesn’t have any room to complain.

    “I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.” Derek says, leaning heavily against the door.

    “How-How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Scott questions.

    “She’s an Argent, she’s with them!” Derek is obviously getting tired of saying that, if his tone is anything to go by.

    “Why should I help _you_?” Scott questions, and Stiles clenches his jaw at the continued beeps and honks behind him.

    “Because you need me.” Derek says, and Scott looks at Allison.

    “Fine,” Stiles is climbing into the Jeep, closing his door roughly. “I’ll try. Alright, get him out of here.” He orders Stiles.

    “I hate you for this so much.” Stiles scowls, pulling away quickly. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him as he drives, but he just continues watching the road, not allowing his eyes to flicker to the man.

 

***

 

    They drive around two hours, but Stiles has been starving since he got out of school and there’s no way he’s taking Derek to his _house_. He pulls into a drive-thru, ordering his usual, but then he falters. “Hold on, please. Do you want anything?” He doesn’t turn to face Derek as he asks the question.

    “What?” The man sounded genuinely surprised.

    “Do you want anything? You’re probably hungry because of-” Blood loss is implied.

    “I, uh, sure.” Derek is obviously confused, but Stiles ignores it. He orders two more hamburgers from the dollar menu, a medium curly fry, and he turns his head a _bit_ before he stops himself. “What do you want to drink?”

    “...Coke.” Stiles turns to tell the woman. “Please.” Stiles pauses, but then he continues, because there’s no need to get hung up on something that small that’ll probably never happen again. He orders two medium milkshakes and an ice water too.

    “Your total is $13,74 at the next window.” The woman says, and Stiles pulls forward. He glances at Derek, wincing at the blood rushing down his arm. Thank god he usually has towels to protect his seat from getting too hot in the Summer. They’re catching all the blood, at the moment.

    “Uh… You need to, uh, lean back. And pretend to be sleeping. Or something.” Stiles says, rummaging around in the back until he pulls out a thin blanket. Derek is silent, back to his glarey, brooding ways. “We need an excuse to cover you up so nobody sees the blood, alright? Just until we can park somewhere else to eat.” Derek doesn’t look well, but Stiles ignores it. The man does lay back, quite stubbornly, but Stiles ignores it in favor of covering the man with the light blanket. He uses it in the Summer because he has trouble sleeping without something covering him since his mom died.

    “Hey.” The woman whispers as stiles pulls up, a ten and a five in one hand. Stiles smiles at her.

    “Afternoon.” Stiles greets, handing her the money. He takes the change, shoving it into his pocket, before he pulls up.

    “Why does he have a blanket on him?” The guy at the next window asks, and Stiles raises a brow. He puts the food over the area where Derek can bleed onto the blanket to block the red that might appear.

    “Sleeping problems or something. Can’t sleep without something on him.” Stiles says, and the guy nods, handing him the ice water and telling him to have a good day before Stiles drives away.

     **Did you find it yet?** Stiles texts Scott as he’s driving away from the park where Stiles and Derek ate in silence except for the radio. It takes nearly all his willpower to keep his eyes on the road as Derek quickly takes off his jacket, and he’s starting to get better at ignoring the panting and low groans.

     **Need more time.** Is Scott’s response, causing Stiles to angrily throw his phone onto his seat. He notices that Derek had splattered some blood on his dashboard while he’d been taking off his coat.

    “Hey, try not to bleed out all over my seats, okay? We’re almost there.” Stiles complains, turning back to the road.

    “Almost where?” Derek asks, his voice rougher than usual.

    “Your house?” It sounds more like a question than a statement, and Stiles doesn’t like the way that Derek’s head whips up.

    “What? No, you can’t take me there.” Stiles flails a bit at the words, tripping over his own.

    “I can’t take you to your own house?” He eventually gets out, and Derek’s shakes his head.

    “Not when I can’t protect myself.” The man says, and Stiles huffs angrily, pulling over to the side of the road. He cuts the engine

    “What happens if Scott can’t find your little magic bullet, hmm? Are you dying?” He questions, the annoyed and angry tone hiding his actual panic.

    “Not yet. I have a last resort.”

    “What do you _mean?_ What ‘last resort’?” Stiles questions, and then Derek rolls up his sleeve, causing Stiles to gag at the wound. “ _Oh, my, god what is that?_ Is that contagious? You should probably just get out.” Derek grits his teeth, letting out a suffering sigh.

    “Start the car.” He orders. “Now.” Panic turns into a flash of anger.

    “Yeah, I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? I-Infact if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead!” Stiles shouts, and Derek stares at him, unamused. Stiles doesn’t see that he can tell it’s panic causing him to snap.

    “Start the car, or I’m gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Derek threatens, and Stiles pauses, staring at him for a few seconds because that honestly wasn’t what he was expecting. He shakes his head, looking to the side angrily before he starts the car and starts driving around again.

 

***

 

    It’s been _hours_. What the hell is Scott _doing_?

     **Derek isn’t looking good** Stiles texts Scott, glancing at said werewolf. He’s pale and shaking and sweating, and Stiles mind can’t tell if it’s worried or horny at the sounds the man is making.   **Call me.**

    It’s another seven minutes before Scott finally calls Stiles. “What am I supposed to do with him?” He questions, motioning vaguely towards Derek even though his friend can’t see it. Scott sounds as annoyed as Stiles, but he has no right to considering he isn’t dealing with the tall and silent type by himself.

    “ _I don’t know! Take him somewhere, anywhere!_ ” Scott replies, and Stiles slams his head back onto his headrest.

    “He’s starting to smell!” Stiles whines, doing his best to ignore the way Derek slowly looks over at him with the promise of death in his eyes.

    “ _Like-Like what?_ ” Scott asks.

    “Like death!”

    “Okay, just- Take him to the animal clinic.” Scott orders, and Stiles flails around slightly because it’s what he does.

    “What about your boss?”

    “ _He’s gone by now. There’s a spare key in the box behind the dumpster._ ” First he’s gotta deal with the smell of death, now he’s gotta deal with the stench of garbage. Great. Just, great. Stiles’ day is going _so_ well right now! Stiles sighs heavily, handing his phone to Derek.

    “You’re not gonna believe where he’s telling me to take you.” He tells the werewolf. Derek grabs the phone.

    “Did you find it?” His words slur, and annoyance turns to worry in about two seconds _flat_. Because Stiles has regular, _human_ hearing and because Scott is whispering he can’t hear his friend’s reply. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, alright?” There’s a pause. “Then think about this. If the alpha calls you out against your will, and he’s gonna do it again, next time, you’ll either kill with him, or you’ll get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me.” Derek orders, “Find the bullet.” He hangs up.

 

***

 

    Stiles glances at his phone as it lets out three different pitched chimes. “Does nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?” He asks Derek, who’s sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall heavily.

    “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane.” Derek sighs. “He has to bring me the bullet.”

    “Why?” Worry spikes in Stiles, and he feels himself pale a bit.

    “ ‘Cause I’m gonna die without it.” Derek says, causing Stiles to swallow nervously. He pulls out his phone again.

     **You need to get here NOW** He sends to Scott, running a hand over his head because his hair is too short to pull a hand through at the moment. Stiles is suddenly grabbed by the shoulder, and Derek starts shoving him forward effortlessly. They make it into the operating room, and Stiles opens the door.

    “Okay, okay.” Stiles says nervously, because his body is not reacting the way it should be to being manhandled. Stiles turns on the lights, and he should be considered a saint for not staring at Derek’s back muscles for more than three seconds. Of course, he’d probably gawk at them if he wasn’t suddenly recoiling from Derek’s wound. The bullet is still in the werewolf’s arm, the wound is still bleeding, black veins run up and down Derek’s arm, and Stiles _totally_ doesn’t feel queasy looking at the wound.

    “You know, that really doesn’t look like something that echinacea and a good night’s sleep couldn’t take care of.” Stiles is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t really blame Derek for not going along with it.

    “I need to fix this before it reaches my heart. It’ll kill me.” Derek pants.

    “Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” Oh look, back muscles and no injury to distract Stiles.

    “If he doesn’t get here with the bullet on time, last resort.” Derek says, rummaging through cabinets and drawers.

    “Which is?” Stiles prompts. He pales as Derek holds up a saw, his stomach flipping like it’s in the Olympics.

    “You’re gonna cut off my arm.” Oh God. Derek is completely serious. But when isn’t Derek totally serious?Derek places the saw on the table, sliding it over to Stiles as he starts wrapping a band of something around his upper arm. Stiles picks up the saw, turning it on briefly before turning it off and dropping it, turning away and refusing to even look at the thing.

    “ _Oh_ my _God._ ” Stiles drops his hand onto the arm with the elbow touching the table. He covers his mouth with one hand then shifts, unable to hold still as nerves and adrenaline kick in. “What if you bleed to death?” Stiles questions.

    “It’ll heal if it works.” Derek says, his words muffled as he holds one end of the band between his teeth.

    “Look- I don’t know if I can do this.” Stiles gags.

    “Why not?” Derek snaps, still staring at his arm as he continues tying the band of… Rubber, maybe? really thin, stretched out rubber?

    “I don’t know, maybe because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing through the bone, and especially the blood.” Stiles’ voice cracks.

    “Do you _faint_ at the sight of _blood_?” Stiles totally doesn’t like that tone and he totally does _not_ get queasy when he sees blood!

    “No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” Stiles exclaims, nearly throwing his hands into the air. Derek huffs in anger, looking at the table.

    “Okay, fine, how about this,” Maybe Derek is actually learning that he can’t just- “Either you cut off my arm, or I cut off your head.” Nevermind. Stiles throws his arms up a bit, turning and walking away from the table but walking back as he speaks.

    “You know, I’m so not buying your threats right no-” Derek grabs Stiles by the front of his shirt, pulling him over the table until his face is right under Derek’s. That forming arousal should absolutely _not_ be there what the _fuck_ body?! “ _Oh_ my god! Okay! Fine! Alright, totally. I’ll do it.” Derek let’s out a choking noise, and worry mingles with fear. “What?” Stiles asks, and Derek leans over the side of the table. And now Derek is throwing up blood and Stiles might just throw up his lunch.

    “ _Oh_ my God what the hell is that?” Stiles’ voice is higher pitched as he stares at the black blood. His voice cracks a few times, too. Wonderful.

    “My body… Is trying to heal itself.” Derek forces out between somewhat wheezy breaths.

    “It’s not doing a very good job of it.” Stiles says, and he feels like he’s about to freaking cry. Derek looks up at him, and even his _eyes_ are paler than normal.

    “Now.” He grits out. “You gotta do it now.” Stiles looks at the saw, backing up a bit.

    “Derek honestly I don’t think I can.” He says.

    “ _Just do it!_ ” Derek snaps.

    “Oh my god, okay.” Stiles tests the saw to see if it’s still working, silently hoping it’s not. He holds it above Derek’s arm. “Here we go…”

    “Stiles?” Scott shouts, and relief floods through Stiles.

    “Scott?” Said werewolf runs into the room, pausing as he sees Stiles holding the saw over Derek’s arm.

    “What the hell are you _doing_?” He questions, and Stiles lets out a breathy laugh, the urge to cry in relief a bit stronger.

    “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares.”

    “Did you get it?” Derek asks, and Scott hands him the bullet. He stands up, holding the bullet up to the light to stare at it with unfocused eyes.

    “What are you gonna do with it?” Stiles asks, tone weary.

    “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” Derek's hand goes limp. and the bullet rolls off the table and into a vent.

    “Nononono!” Scott shouts, and Derek drops to the floor. Scott dives to the floor, and Stiles moves to Derek without a second thought.

    “Derek?” Stiles feels the werewolf start to get colder, and he sees him start to get more pale. He slaps Derek a bit. “Derek, come on. Wake up.” He’s holding the man by his chin and some of his jaw. “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?” He knows that panic has definitely seeped into his voice at this point.

    “I don't know! I can’t reach it!” Stiles’ best friend replies.

    “He’s not waking up!” Fear is seeping into Stiles dangerously. “I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!”

    “Just- Just hold on!” Scott snaps. “I got it! I got it!” He shouts, and Stiles turns back to Derek.

    “Please don’t kill me for this.” He half-prays, before he punches Derek with as much force as he can muster. “Ow, God!” Stiles rolls off of Derek after realizing he’d been straddling the man, shaking his hand.

    “Come on, get up!” Scott shouts, and Derek climbs to his feet, leaning heavily on the metal slab.

    “Ow…” Stiles is still shaking his hand, but he joins the other two by the table. Derek bites off the top of the bullet, pouring out what’s inside of it before he lights it on fire. He grabs the ashes, forcing them into the wound. Derek screams, dropping to the floor again, his fists clenched as he hits the ground. He arches his back, screaming again, but after a while he quiets down and the veins (and the wound itself) disappear. “That was…” _Fucking terrifying. You could’ve died._ “Awesome!”

    “Are you okay?” Stiles asks Derek.

    “Except for the agonizing pain?” The werewolf asks, and Stiles resists the urge to raise his brows at the sass.

    “I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.” Stiles voices his thoughts, and Derek glares.

    “Okay, we saved your life, which means you’re gonna leave us alone. You got that? A-a-and if you don’t I- I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad and I’m gonna tell him everything-” Derek interrupts Scott.

    “You’re gonna trust them?” Derek asks, and Stiles silently agrees that that’s a fucking _dumb_ idea. “You think they can help you?”

    “Why-Why-Why not? They’re freaking nicer than you are!” Scott shouts.

    “Yeah. I can show you exactly how nice they are.” Derek says, and Scott narrows his eyes. This would be entertaining (like some TV show) if Stiles wasn’t directly involved with this mess.

    “What do you mean?” Scott asks slowly.

 

***

  
    Of course, Stiles is forced to go home, because he can have his life be at stake and be threatened and everything but how _dare_ he wants some clue as to why the hell Derek is such a hardass. Stiles heads home, heating up leftovers in an empty house. He finishes some homework, gets started on an essay, finishes fifteen pages of his slowly forming bestiary, and then goes to bed. He ignores the uselessness and helplessness that’s slowly coming to life in favor of shoving a pillow over his head and blocking out the sounds of life outside his cracked window before he passes out because _damn today was exhausting_.


	3. Season One, Episode Eight (AKA Finally Sterek Undertones Wassup)

        “Where are we going?” Scott half-whines, trudging after Stiles while huffing like a two year old throwing a tantrum.

        “You’ll see.” Stiles responds.

        “I really shouldn’t be here right now. My mom is still freaking out about what happened at the school.”

        “Well your mom isn’t the sheriff.” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. “Okay, there’s no comparison, trust me.” Stiles half wonders if he left his window open enough for him to be able to open it when he gets back home.

        “Can you at least just tell me what we’re doing out here?” Scott half-snaps, causing Stiles to raise a brow.

        “Sure. When you’re best friend gets dumped-”

        “I didn’t get dumped! We’re just on a break.” Stiles rolls his eyes noticeably.

        “Okay, when your best friend is told by his girlfriend that they’re going on a break, you get your best friend drunk.” Stiles turns as they reach the spot, holding up a bottle of jack with a shit eating grin. It only takes about an hour for Stiles to get wasted, but he isn’t sure if he’s wasted. The world _could_ just be spinning faster than normal which is allowing Stiles to see it. Scott is sitting on a rock, and Stiles is laying on his back with one leg kicked up and his head resting on said rock. Scott looks a bit judgy.

        “Man, it’s just one girl, ya know? And there’s so many- There’s so many girls in the sea.” Stiles is interrupted by Scott. Rude.

        “Fish in the sea.” Stiles narrows his eyes, because that doesn’t make sense. Scott wouldn’t date a fish, right? His standards can’t be that low when he’s a fairly attractive guy with his- his pretty chocolate eyes and-

        “Fish? Why are you talking about fish? I’m talking about girls. I love girls.” Stiles’ sigh cuts off his _and guys too. Guys are so amazing_. “I love ‘em.” Stiles continues effortlessly. “I love girls with strawberry blonde hair and I love really green eyes, ya know? Like, _really_ green that can just like- like look through you and-”

        “Like Lydia?” Scott asks, but Stiles isn’t sure for a second. Lydia’s eyes are more of a hazel. The color of like, kinda mossy wood and a snake in the forest you can only see when you’re really close to it. He’d been thinking of different eyes. He can’t remember who they belong to, but they’re so _green_. Like emeralds and a meadow with a gold sky and they can trap you even when you’re far away. But Stiles can’t remember who he was thinking of, so he goes with Lydia.

        “Exactly.” His voice cracks a bit because of all the alcohol he’s consumed. “Hey, how did you know who I was talking abou-abo- What was I talking about?” Stiles smiles a bit, almost giggling until he sees that Scott’s frowning. That’s not supposed to be going on, Scott’s the one he needs to get happy. “Hey! You’re not happy! Take a drink.” Stiles orders, and Scott glances at him with lowered brows.

        “I don’t want any more.” Scott says, and Stiles frowns, putting the bottle back on the cold cement.

        “You’re not drunk?” He asks.

        “I’m not anything.” Way to sound like a creep, Scott. He really could use a drink, it’s not good to be so angry and sad while in high school.

        “Hey, maybe it’s like- Maybe it’s like not needing your inhaler anymore.” Stiles says, shifting his head as the world spins a bit so he can stay focused on Scott. “You know. Maybe you can’t get drunk. As a wolf.” Stiles doesn’t know why he added that on last, but whatever. He furrows his brows as something occurs to him. “Am I drunk?”

        “You’re wasted.” Stiles grins

        “Yeah~!” Stiles throws up his fist, waiting for a fistbump that doesn’t come. He frowns, sitting up a bit. “Come on dude, I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know, well I don't know. But, I know this. I know that, as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” Because when you’re alone nobody wants you. Nobody’s ever wanted you, and nobody ever will. But when you’re broken up with, that means that somebody liked you enough to maybe marry you at some point. Scott furrows his brows, looking at Stiles in a way that tells him his best friend doesn’t understand. Why would he? He isn’t as much of a dork as Stiles pretends. He’s actually dated a lot of people.

        Stiles doesn’t bother trying to explain it to Scott, brushing it off instead. “Yeah, that didn’t make any sense.” He laughs. “C’mon, Scott. Drink.” The bottle is snatched away by a dark hand before Scott can grab it.

        “Well well well. Look at the two little bitches gettin’ they drink on.” The man says, and Scott scowls.

        “Hey, give it back, man.”

        “I think he wants a drink.” The guy behind the taller dude says, and Stiles frowns, because no shit he wants a drink. He’s sobering up fast though. For some reason, adrenaline just kicked in.

        “I want the bottle.” Scott says, his words no where near as threatening as his tone is. Stiles sits up a bit.

        “Scott, maybe we should just go.” He says.

        “You brought me here to get me drunk, Stiles. I’m not drunk yet.” The dark skinned dude snorts, raising the bottle to his lips. He takes a swig, and Scott stands up, causing Stiles to sit up straighter but still not all the way, “Give me the bottle.” Scott orders, and the dude in front of him grins, snorting to the other guy in a way that says _who does this little punk think he is?_ “ _Give me the bottle of jack_.” Something is different in Scott’s voice, and some yellow faintly glows on the dude’s face.

        Stiles sits up completely, seeing Scott’s claws come out. “Scott?” The word is said in a wavering, weary tone. Scott snatches the bottle as it’s held out to him, and he chucks it hard. It hits a tree quite a ways away and then it shatters. The men leave quickly, and so do Scott and Stiles. Stiles rushes after his friend. “ ‘Kay, please tell me that was because of the break up. Or because tomorrow is the full moon.” Scott doesn’t say anything, just opens a door of the jeep for Stiles to nearly fall into. Scott looks around before he closes the Jeep’s door, going around to the other side, climbing in, starting the car, and pulling out of the parking lot. He speeds away, and Stiles is asleep before they’ve been driving for three minutes.

 

        ***

 

        Stiles is sitting against the glass wall of the office when his dad walks out and sees him. He stands up as the sheriff starts walking towards him, trying to figure out how he’s gonna phrase what he’s trying to say. “Don’t you have a test to get to?” His dad asks, but Stiles easily ignores the words and the tone.

        “What’s going on? Did you find Derek yet?” He asks, eyes flickering to the three other men that entered the school with his dad.

        “I’m working on it. You, go take your test.”

        “Alright, Dad, listen to me.” Stiles starts, but his dad interrupts him.

        “ _Go_.” The sheriff drags out the words, and Stiles fights hard not to scowl or just tell his dad everything.

        “This is _really_ important. You _have_ to be careful, alright? _Especially_ tonight.” The sheriff pauses at the tone Stiles uses.

        “Stiles, I’m always careful.” He says.

        “ _Dad_ , you’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least not like this.” His dad looks him in the eyes for a few moments.

        “I know, which is why I’ve called in people who have. State detectives.” Stiles swears mentally as he looks at the two men in suits and ties by the other police officer. The blonde one glances at him. Or maybe he’s looking at the sheriff. “Now, go take your test.” Stiles looks at the officers and detectives, and then back at his dad. Never before has he wanted to tell somebody something so badly. Because his dad might risk his life daily, but now the chance of him dying has shot up. But Stiles _can’t_ tell him, alright? If he tells him, he’ll actively look for people who can help or try to fix the problem himself. Stiles closes his mouth before he says anything, grabbing his backpack and walking away quickly.

 

***

 

        Stiles notices that Scott is freaking out almost the moment it starts. He can hear him start breathing heavier, so he sits a bit straighter. He looks up as his friend grabs his bag and leaves the room quickly, and he runs after him.

 

***

 

        At least Stiles’ own panic attacks finally _help_ somehow. But, Scott had a panic attack. That- That isn’t good. Stiles is able to calm him down, tricking him into thinking it’s an asthma attack and getting his chest to open up and allow him to breath again. He’d been worried at first that Scott had been changing, but Stiles isn’t exactly sure that having a panic attack is better. Half because that’ll shoot up his pulse and might cause him to shift. The other half of the problem is because _something is different about Scott and Allison’s relationship_. No heartbreak should affect Scott that much. Not enough to cause him a panic attack. Not when they’d been on about three dates. Maybe it's a werewolf thing? Like, maybe they get more attached to their significant others a lot faster than normal for some reason?

        Stiles will have to hurry up and continue the bestiary thing he’s been making for about a month. He’s finished one of the notebooks, but that was mostly because there’d been a break after the entire school thing went down and he’s had open weekends. Maybe there’s something about werewolves he’ll find when he starts the second notebook. He’s gotta hurry up though, because he’s sure that something is gonna happen with Allison at some point. Probably something with Jackson because that giant bag of dicks can’t help but poke at the sleeping bear known as Scott. He’ll look into it later.

 

***

 

        What the hell is wrong with Scott? Why the hell is he being such a bag of shit? Is it the full moon? God, Stiles hopes not. Their relationship is gonna get too stretched if he gets like this every time there’s a perfect white circle in the night sky. He hit Danny hard enough to give him a bloody nose _through_ his helmet. _And_ he made out with Lydia. _Lydia_. The girl that Stiles has been crushing on since _third grade_. Honestly, Stiles can look over the bloody nose as a bloodlust thing, but making out with Lydia has _nothing_ to do with blood lust and everything to do with Scott just being a Grade A _dick_.

  
*** 

        Stiles opens the door, closing it and locking it again behind him. “Scott?” Melissa calls, and Stiles hesitates.

        “Stiles.” The teen laughs a bit nervously.

        “Key.” Melissa says, and Stiles shifts a bit nervously.

        “Yeah! I had one made, so...”

        “That doesn’t surprise me. Scares me, but it doesn’t surprise me.” Stiles drops the bag with the chains and cuffs and stuff in it, and it all clangs together in the bag. Melissa looks down at it. “What is that?”

        “Uh- School project.” Stiles lies fairly easily.

        “Mm.” It’s silent for a few moments. “Stiles, he’s okay, right?”

        “Who, Scott? Yeah! Totally!”

        “He just doesn’t talk to me anymore. Well- not like he used to.” Melissa says, and Stiles feels bad for Melissa. She has no idea what’s going on with her son, no way to help him, and even if she did know she couldn’t do anything.

        “Well, he’s had a tough week.”

        “Yeah. Yeah I get it. Um, okay, uh. Now, be careful tonight.”

        “You too.”

        “Full moon.” Malissa says, and there’s the feeling of somebody dumping ice water on Stiles.

        “What?” He sounds a bit breathless as he asks the question.

        “Uh, there’s a full moon tonight. You should see how the ER gets, it brings out all the nut jobs.” Melissa says, smiling a bit.

        “Oh, right.” Stiles says, feeling his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

        “You know, it’s- um, actually where they came up with the word lunatic.” She says, and Stiles nods because he doesn’t want to be rude but he already knows that. He takes a deep breath, waiting for Melissa to leave for work before he heads upstairs. He turns on Scott’s bedroom light, nearly having a heart attack as Scott is suddenly visible as he sits in his chair.

        “ _Oh_ my god!” Stiles jumps, and Scott just watches him. “Dude, you scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren’t home yet.” He drops the bag on the floor.

        “I came in through the window.” Yep, Stiles doesn’t like that tone. He’s gotta get Scott locked up. Quickly.

        “Uh… Well, let’s get this set up. Wait until you see what I bought.”

        “I’m fine. Just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight.” Stiles is gonna die young at the hands of his bloodlust high friend. Great.

        “You sure about that? Because you’ve got this serial killer look goin’ on in your eyes and I really hope it’s the full moon starting to take effect because it’s really starting to freak me out.” Stiles says, resisting the urge to clear his throat as he looks back down at his bag. Why the hell did he get himself involved in this? He should’ve just walked away. He wouldn’t be dealing with his wanting-to-kill best friend or the starts of an ‘oh shit am I bi’ thing.

        “I’m fine... You should go now.” Stiles is silent for a beat.

        “Alright… I’ll leave.” He’s forming a plan as he starts to stand. “Well look w- Will you just look in the bag and see what I bought? Maybe you use it, maybe you don’t. Sound good?” Stiles asks. Scott glares at him a few moments, getting up slowly and walking towards him menacingly.

        “You think I’m gonna let you put these on me and chain me up like a dog?” Scott asks, and Stiles swallows nervously.

        “Actually, I didn’t.” Stiles says, and then he surges forwards with handcuffs, putting one around Scott’s wrist and one around the bar of a furnace thing in his room.

        “ _What the hell are you doing_?” Scott snaps, clawing at his wrist like it’ll get the handcuff off.

        “Saving you from yourself. And getting some payback. For making out with Lydia.” Stiles clarifies when Scott glares at him. He then grabs his bag, heading towards the hallway.

        “ _I’m gonna kill you_!” Scott shouts, and Stiles pauses. He ignores the hurt that flashes through him, pushing it down quickly because this isn’t really entirely Scott.

        “You kissed her Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That’s my- The one girl who- I- For the last three hours I’ve been thinkin’ ‘Maybe it’s just the full moon. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’ll be back to normal tomorrow and he won’t even remember what a dumbass he’s being. A son of a bitch, a fucking unbelievable piece of crap friend.” Stiles doesn’t like the way that Scott slowly looks up.

        “She kissed me.” Scott says, and there’s the ice cold water again.

        “Wh-at?” Stiles’ voice cracks.

        “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.” Stiles retreats to the hallway. “She would’ve done a lot more, too. She couldn’t wait to get her hands all over me. She would’ve done _anything_ I wanted.” Stiles slides down the wall. “ _Anything!_ ”

 

***

 

        It’s another hour and a half before Scott speaks. “Stiles please let me out. It’s the full moon I swear. You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. Please, Stiles, let me out. It’s starting to hurt.” Stiles swallows nervously, playing with his hands to try and distract himself. “It’s not like the first time. It’s the full moon. It’s Allison breaking up with me. I know it’s not just taking a break, she broke up with me. It’s killing me. I feel completely hopeless, just, please. Let me out.”

        “I can’t.” It’s getting harder and harder for Stiles to shove down his feelings of hurt and helplessness . The _uselessness_.

        “No, no!” Scott starts screaming, and stiles covers his ears, gripping his head tight because he can’t handle hearing his friend screaming like this. Because it is the full moon and it’s crushing him inside because those are screams of just god awful _pain_. There’s clattering as the handcuffs are moved violently, and then there’s an animalistic growl followed by a few thuds. Stiles pauses, fear washing through him.

        “Scott? Scott, are you okay?” He asks in a shaky voice as he scrambles to his feet and into the room. The handcuffs are on the floor, and there’s a trail of blood on the floor leading out the window. Stiles shakily takes out his phone, thumbing in a number quickly as it appears on Scott’s computer’s monitor.

        “Hello?” The voice is tired and rough and entirely too familiar. Stiles ignores the way a shiver runs down his spine at it.

        “It’s-It’s Stiles. I- Scott and I planned on chaining him up tonight for the full moon but when I got here he had this serial killer thing going on and I was able to cuff him but I wasn’t able to close the window or do more because he might’ve killed me and I had him for like an hour and a half and- and I don’t- I don’t know what happened but _something_ happened and he snapped the cuffs like they were made of freaking _paper_ and-”

        “You’re at Scott’s house?” Derek interrupts him, and Stiles can hear him moving. The teen pauses.

        “I- Yeah. I think Scott will be looking for Allison, but he didn’t head in the direction of her house. The school maybe?” Stiles guesses wildly, his heart hammering. Derek is silent for a while.

        “Are you uninjured?” Is Derek Hale asking if Stiles is okay?

        “I-I-I mean, yeah I’m-I’m fine. But-But you need to stop Scott, alright? Something isn’t right with him, Derek. He’s acting strange and his thing with Allison was… It was different than a normal relationship, alright? I don’t know _how_ , but it was-is- whatever. I think he might- He might kill her if she’s out with somebody, alright? Please, man. I know that you don’t like me and you don’t really like Scott all that much at the moment but he’s gonna be pissed and confused and _in danger_ if he kills Allison.” Stiles says, and Derek is silent for about half a second before he makes an agreeing noise.

        “Alright. I’ll stop him. The school?” He asks, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

        “I- Yeah. Check the school.” Stiles says, and Derek hangs up without saying goodbye. Stiles stands in the middle of the hallway for about a solid minute before he moves to clean up the cuffs and the blood. He leaves after he’s sure there isn’t even a trace of blood, and he locks the door behind him.

        Naturally, the universe feels like fucking Stiles over today, because on his way home he finds the sheriff’s car along with an ambulance and two other squad cars on his way home. It feels like he's been punched in the gut, and he scrambles out of his car quickly. “Dad? Has anybody seen my dad?” He asks, turning around a guy who looked like the sheriff from behind. He's nearly having a panic attack when his dad appears.

        “Stiles?” Stiles whirls around. “What the hell are you doing here.” Stiles pulls his dad into a hug, absolutely refusing to let go of his dad as he makes sure he's real. And alive. He isn't a ghost. He tells his Dad that Scott isn’t feeling well and that Stiles loves the dude but he’s not willing to catch the plague for him. It’s a complete lie, but the sheriff just nods and goes along with it. Naturally, Stiles doesn’t notice as a car silently pulls up to the scene as he begins a somewhat-casual conversation with his dad


	4. Season One, Episode Nine (AKA Now Two Crazy Bitches Is Just Excessive)

        Stiles hadn’t penned in being in a car chase with a psychotic blonde bitch, but look at where he is now. Stiles looks back at said psychotic bitch, eyes wide as his heart hammers in his chest. “Faster?” Scott asks, unable to take his eyes off the road to look behind him.

        “Much faster.” Stiles replies, and Scott speeds up. “Okay, Scott, I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase here.” Stiles says, panic leaking into his voice.

        “If I go faster I’ll kill us.” He says, and Stiles turns to him with narrowed eyes because how is Scott such a shit driver?

        “If you _don’t_ go faster, _they’ll_ kill us.” Stiles snaps. Scott guns it, and Stiles looks back again. “They’re gone.” That was… Too easy. Stiles turns on the walkie talkie.

        “ _All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron ward_.” The voice on it says, and Scott clenches his jaw and speeding up. He arrives where Derek is, said werewolf hiding behind some machine, and Stiles is already leaning over and opening the passenger side door before Scott even stops.

        “Get in!” Scott snaps before he’s able to. Derek rushes to the car, and a machine gun is being fired at both Derek and the car as Scott peels away from the area, gunning it again as he makes it to open road. “What part of laying low don’t you understand?!” He questions, his voice portraying his annoyance well enough.

        “Dammit, I had him!” Derek shouts, punching his door. Stiles leans forward, putting himself between the two werewolves which is probably a really fucking _stupid_ idea.

        “The alpha?” He asks.

        “Yes! He was right in front of me and- the freakin’ police show up!” Derek shouts, and Stiles narrows his eyes.

        “Woah, hey, they’re just doing their jobs.” He says, and then he winces away from Derek as the man turns and glares at him.

        “Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the _entire state_.” The glare is turned towards Scott, and Stiles stays in the back seat for a moment.

        “Hey, can’t we seriously get passed that? I made a dumbass mistake.” Scott says, and Stiles leans forwards again, deciding he should cut off the argument before it can properly start.

        “Alright!” He shouts. “How’d you find him?” Derek turns away, and Scott glances at him angrily.

        “Can you at least _try_ to trust us for at least half a second?” Scott questions, and Stiles leans in a bit more.

        “Yeah, both of us.” Derek glares, leaning forward in a way that would allow him to cause Stiles bodily harm.

        “Or just him. I’ll be back here.” _Not like I was willing to scar myself for life to save your werewolf ass. And almost got shot. Whatever._

        “Alright, the last time I talked to my sister,” Stiles decides that silently is a wonderful way for him to judge Derek’s grammar, “she was close to figuring something out. The first was a guy named ‘Harris’-” Stiles leans forward again, interrupting Derek.

        “Our _chemistry teacher_?” Stiles questions.

        “Why him?” Scott asks a better question, like usual.

        “I-I don’t know yet.” Derek says.

        “Alright, well who’s the second?” Stiles asks, surprised as he gets an answer. Derek pulls out and unfolds a piece of paper.

        “It’s some kind of symbol.” Derek mutters, showing Scott and (surprisingly) Stiles the sketch.

        “Oh…” Scott sighs wearily.

        “What- You know what this is?” Derek questions, eyes flashing dangerously.

        “I’ve… Seen it. On a necklace.” Both Stiles and Derek are staring at Scott. The werewolf sighs again. “Allison’s necklace.” Scott guns it, again.

 

***

 

        Stiles totally _not_ freaking out. That’s somebody else’s heart that’s pounding in his totally _not_ tightening chest, and it’s definitely not _his_ blood pounding in his ears. Totally not freaking out. Totally not- “How the hell did he find out?!” Okay maybe a little.

        “I have no idea!” Scott’s breathing a bit heavily, so at least whoever _is_ freaking out ( _who is totally not Stiles_ ) isn’t alone in their freaking out.

        “Alright did he- did he say it out loud? The word?” Stiles asks.

        “What- What _word_?”  
        “Were-” Stiles looks around to make sure nobody is within hearing range. “Werewolf. Did he say ‘I know you’re a werewolf’?”

        “No, but he implied it pretty freaking clearly!” Scott all but shouts, and Stiles quiets him down a bit.

        “Maybe- Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. I mean, it’s not like he has proof, right? And if he wanted to tell someone who’s gonna believe him anyway?” Scott throws his arms out at the question.

        “How about Allison’s _father_?” The werewolf hisses.

        “Okay it’s bad.” Stiles says after a hesitant silence.

        “I need to find a cure. Now.”

        “Does he know about Allison’s father?” Stiles questions.

        “I don’t know.” Scott murmurs.

        “Okay, where’s Derek?” Stiles asks.

        “Hiding like  I told him to, why?” _Totally not because I really need to figure out why I feel the need to lick his abs._

        “I have another idea. It’s gonna take some time and finesse though.” Stiles makes a few motions with his hands.

        “We have that game tonight. It’s quarter-finals, and it’s your first game.” Scott says, and Stiles sighs.

        “I know, I know. Look, do you have a plan for Allison yet?” Stiles questions. Scott throws his arms out in a kind-of-shrug.

        “She’s in my next class.”

        “Get the necklace.” Stiles orders, and then he quickly heads off to his next class, planning on doing anything but take notes.

 

***

 

        Stiles throws himself onto the desk chair, booting up his computer quickly. He furrows his brows as his laptop jolts a bit, Laura trying to move it, but he isn’t able to see what she’s trying to say before his dad calls up to him. “Hey, Stiles?” Stiles pauses, spinning his chair slightly as he turns.

        “Yo-” Sex god. In Stiles’ bedroom. “Der-Derek?” Derek raises a finger to his lips, throwing his arm at the door in a ‘ _get your ass out there and keep him out or I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth_ ’ kind of way. “I-um. Oh.” Stiles rushes to his door, hanging out of it but keeping it closed enough so that Derek isn’t visible.

        “What did you say?” His dad asks, and Stiles’ heart skips a beat.

        “I-I said ‘Yo, Dad’.” Stiles half-shrugs, letting out a nervous breath of a laugh.

        “Uh- Listen, I’ve-I’ve got something I’ve gotta take care of, but- I’m gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game.” Stiles’ dad says.

        “My first game? Oh, that’s great. Awesome. Uh… Good.” Stiles kind of drags out the word, and where in the hell did his sudden ability to lie go? The sheriff smiles and shakes his head a bit.

        “I’m very happy for you. And I’m really proud of you.” This would be a very touching moment if not for the possible death awaiting Stiles on the other side of his bedroom door, or the fact that his Dad wouldn’t ever trust him again if he saw Derek Hale, supposed murder suspect, in his room.

        “Thank’s I’m-I’m really happy. And proud. Of myself.”

        “So, they’re really gonna let you play, huh?” The sheriff seems to have a permanent awkward-smile carved into his face.

        “Yeah, Dad. First line. Yeah!”

        “I’m very proud.”

        “Ah, me too. Again.” Stiles is pulled into a hug. “Oh, uh, huggie-huggie.” Stiles winces internally at how fucking awful he’s kinda-lying right now, but the sheriff doesn’t seem to want to push it.

        “See ya’ there.” The sheriff says, raising a hand in an awkward wave-salute thing.

        “Take it easy.” Stiles replies, waving back. He waits for his dad to leave the floor entirely before he goes back into his room, closing and locking the door quickly. “I’m sorr- Ohp!” Stiles is slammed into the door, and Derek’s face is  two inches away from his. This’d be a wet dream come true except for the fact that there’s an actual chance that Derek is about to kill Stiles.

        “You say _one_ word-” Derek starts.

        “Oh, what? You mean like, ‘Hey Dad, Derek Hale is in my room. Bring your gun’?” Stiles questions, self-preservation instincts escaping him as Derek is fucking messing with his thoughts and making them all a jumbled mess. “Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass it’s my house, my rules, Buddy.” Stiles isn’t exactly sure what he does with his hand, as it isn’t a hit but it isn’t like just putting his hand down or something. Stiles’ eyes flicker from Derek’s lips to the werewolf’s eyes, and Stiles closes his mouth, wondering if those are gonna be his last words. Except Derek is nodding.

        The werewolf tugs at Stiles’ coat like he’s fixing it or something, and Stiles snorts, doing the same thing to Derek’s coat and _what the hell is he doing?_ Stiles starts walking back to his laptop, but Derek kind of jumps out at him, and he recoils away. “ _Oh_ my God!” The teen half-shouts before he heads over towards his computer at a faster rate.

        “Is Scott gonna get the necklace?” Derek questions as Stiles sits down again.

        “Uh, no. He’s still working on it, but there’s something else we can try.” Derek makes a motion for Stiles to continue, his hands still in the pockets of his leather jacket. “The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there.” Stiles starts, and Derek furrows his (amazing) brows.

        “So?”

        “So it wasn’t Scott.”

        “Well can you find out who sent it?” Derek seems to start getting annoyed, so Stiles gets to the point.

        “No, not me, but I know somebody who can.”

  
***

        It’s about fifteen minutes until Danny is standing in the middle of Stiles’ room. “You want me to do what?” He questions.

        “Trace a text.” Stiles says, wincing a bit.

        “I came here to do lab work. That’s what lab partners _do_.” Danny says, and Stiles clears his throat.

        “And that’s what we’ll do, once you trace the text.”

        “And what makes you think you know how?” _Shit_.

        “Well I- I looked up your arrest report, so…”

        “I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” Stiles makes an agreeing noise, and Danny makes a frustrated one. “No! We’re doing lab work.”

        “Oh my-” Stiles cuts himself off in favor of opening the documents. Danny leans over closer to him.

        “Who’s he again?” He asks, and Stiles looks back at Derek, paling a bit when he sees him going through the bestiary he’s making.

        “He’s my friend…. Miguel.” Stiles tells Danny. He can feel Derek glance up at him, but he doesn’t look  back as he pulls up some graphs and charts.

        “Is that… Blood on his shirt?” Danny asks slowly, causing Stiles to whirl around. Sure enough, there’s blood on Derek’s shirt. Naturally.

        “Yeah, yes. Well, he-he gets these horrible nosebleeds…. Hey, Miguel?” Stiles calls, turning around again. Derek slowly looks up at him, murder in his eyes. “I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?” Stiles motions to his drawer with his head, and he turns back to Danny. “So anyway, we both know that you have the skills to trace that text, so-”

        “Uh, Stiles?” Derek says, gaining Stiles’ attention quickly.

        “Yes?” The teen asks, turning around. His mouth goes dry at the sight of Derek shirtless because _holy shit_.

        “This?” Derek tugs on his shirt. “No fit.”

        “Then- Then try something else on. Sorry.” Stiles turns back to Danny, and he finds his friend also staring at Derek’s back muscles. “Wa- Hey! That one seems to fit pretty good? What do you think, Danny?” Stiles asks, genuinely upset that Derek has  a reason to stop taking off his shirt.

        “Huh?” Danny asks, barely looking at Stiles’ hand as it hits his chest.

        “The shirt, what do you think?” _That’s gotta be the ugliest shirt I own._

        “It’s… It’s not really his color.” Danny says, and Stiles turns around before Derek can see his grin.

        “You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you Danny-Boy?”

        “You’re a horrible person.” Stiles actually thinks that he sees amusement in Danny’s eyes, though he doesn’t like the intensity of the focus the other man is looking at him with. Does… Does Danny know that Stiles is having a ‘I might be a lot not-straight’ not-really-panic? Already? Stiles silently prays that Derek hasn’t picked up on it too.

        “I know, it keeps me awake at night.” Stiles jokes, and Danny rolls his eyes. “Anyway, about that  text-”

        “Stiles!’ Derek snaps, and Stiles does his best _not_ to drool over a six pack and pecs. “None of these _fit_!” Stiles looks back at Danny, trying to portray the amount of ‘ _please say something before I either snap and jump him or he sees that I’m having a gay crisis about him_ ’ that he’s feeling in his eyes. Danny hesitates, but then he sighs.

        “I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of text.” Danny says, leaning forwards to pull the laptop closer to him. Stiles leans back and does a kinda-fist pump thing because he can hear Derek rummaging around in his drawers. He lets out a sigh of relief like he was stretching, and he yawns as he leans forward again.

        Danny is on the laptop for about seven minutes before he sighs. “There, the text was sent from a computer. This one.” Danny taps the screen, and, oh, bucket of ice water. Again. Stiles is starting to become familiar with this feeling.

        “Registered to _that_ account name?” Sadly, in those seven minutes, Derek had been able to find a shirt that fits him. A shirt that Stiles sleeps in. That he was planning on sleeping in tonight. The teen isn’t sure if he’s going to get the shirt _back_ , though.

        “No, no, no. That can’t be right.” Stiles says, leaning back. He glances at Derek, and the werewolf does the same to him. Stiles’ eyes focus on the name written in red on the laptop’s screen. Melissa McCall.

 

***

 

        It’s another half hour before Stiles and Derek are sitting in the Jeep, and Scott calls. “ _Did you get the picture?_ ” He asks.

        “Yeah, I did. It looks exactly like the drawing.” Stiles says. Pain shoots up his arm as it’s tugged the wrong direction, but Derek’s grip on his wrist is made of freaking _steel_.

        “Hey, is there something on the back of it? There’s gotta be something a-a-a-an inscription, an opening, something!” Derek shouts.

        “ _No, there’s nothing. The thing’s flat, it doesn’t open, there’s nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You’re supposed to be here. You’re_ _first line_ _!_ ” Scott says, and Stiles feels his stomach drop. “ _Stiles, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start._ ”

        “I know! Look, if you just- If you see my dad can you tell him- Tell him that I’ll be there I’ll just be a little bit late.” Scott makes an agreeing huff, and Stiles swallows nervously. “Alright, thanks.” Stiles hangs up. Derek is watching him.

        “You aren’t gonna make it.” He states, and annoyance and a bit of sadness flashes through Stiles.

        “I know.” He says curtly.

        “And you didn’t tell him about his mom.” Derek points out, and Stiles clenches his jaw a bit before relaxing. He lets out a huff.

        “Not until we find out the truth.” He says, and Derek surprisingly doesn’t disagree with him. At least not verbally. Or physically.

        “By the way, one more thing?” Derek starts.

        “Yeah?” Stiles glances at him. Suddenly, his face is slammed against the steering wheel. It doesn’t break his nose, but it damn well _feels_ like it does. And Stiles would know. He’s broken his nose before. “What- What the hell was that-”

        “You _know_ what that was for.” Derek interrupts as Stiles checks to see if he has a bloody nose. Stiles panics, thinking Derek knows about his gay crisis, but then the teen realizes it’s about using him to get Danny to track the message. Well shit, if Derek isn’t willing to be shirtless for a case/mission/ _thing_ then Stiles’ wet dreams will likely remain just that. Dreams. “Go. _Go!_ ” Derek  snaps, and Stiles mutters something along the lines of _fucking werewolf and his attitude and eyebrows_ before he fully closes the door and his heading into the hospital.

        Stiles searches nearly everywhere, and not only can he not find Scott’s mom, but he can’t find _any_ nurse he recognizes. “Yeah, I said I can’t find her.” He tells Derek, who’s talking to him over the phone because he’s too lazy to get his ass out of the Jeep to walk with Stiles and actually see everything for himself.

        “ _Then- Ask for Jennifer. She’s been lookin’ after my uncle._ ” Derek says, and it would be an order except it’s missing of his regular heat. Stiles walks into said uncle’s room, but he freezes as he sees that he’s not in the bed or in his wheelchair. Where he should be. Or, if he’s somewhere else, his wheelchair should at least be missing.

        “Yeah, well, he’s not here either.” Stiles says, licking his lips because they’re suddenly dry and _he’s_ probably suddenly in life threatening danger.

        “ _What?_ ” Derek sounds just as confused as Stiles is.

        “He’s not here, he’s gone, Derek.” Stiles says, shrugging as he looks around the room a bit more. Nothing. Derek is silent for about a second, but when he speaks he’s speaking urgently and Stiles _knows_ that his life's in danger.

        “Stiles get out of there right now it’s him- He’s the alpha!” Derek shouts, and Stiles slowly drops his phone, backing out of the doorframe. Of course, there’s a man standing under a (for some reason) faulty light with half his face burned off. Stiles’ heart was already pounding, but _now_ it’s in overdrive and he’s breathing heavily. The man with the burnt face doesn’t take his eyes off of Stiles, and he looks _amused_.

        “You must be Stiles.” He says, and Stiles lowers his phone completely, turning as he prepares to make a break for it. Of course, the second psychotic bitch of the day appears, but this one with red hair.

        “What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over.” She says, and Stiles backs up again, trapped between the two.

        “You-” He points to the nurse, and then at the man, “and him- He- You’re the one who- and he’s the- Oh my God I’m gonna die.” Stiles is nearly crying, and he pulls a hand through where his hair would be. His hair may be gone but the habit isn’t. “I’m gonna die…” His last words won’t be sarcastic, even though his father has insisted they will be constantly. Oh god, his dad. Who’s gonna make sure he watches his health and doesn’t fucking _kill himself_? Derek is suddenly there, throwing an elbow in the nurse’s face hard enough to break her nose and knock her out.

        “That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.” The man speaks like he’s scolding a child, and Stiles’ head whips back to the man. Stiles is in serious danger of getting whiplash here. He looks back at Derek.

        “She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” Derek says, and then his eyes focus on Stiles. “Get out of the way.” He orders.

        “Oh, damn.” Stiles could honestly fucking _kiss_ Derek right now. Not that he doesn’t think about kissing him at other times, but he doesn’t know where he was going with that saying if he’s being perfectly honest. Stiles hits the ground quickly, getting out of the way.

        “You think I killed Laura on purpose? One of my own family?” Stiles pales, scrambling to get behind the desk. Laura appears like her name called her, grabbing Stiles by the arm and dragging him to safety. Thankfully, Derek was too busy snarling at his uncle and the uncle was too focused on Derek to notice how unnaturally fast Stiles was able to get out of the way. Especially as his feet hadn’t moved much. Stiles is about to ask _what the hell are you doing here_ , but Laura raises a finger to her lips.

        So instead of talking, Stiles wonders why Derek’s eyes are blue until adrenaline rushes away any thoughts. Derek’s thrown himself at his uncle, and god _damn_ that man is fucking _crazy_. Creep-in-a-trench-coat throws derek into two walls (putting holes in both where Derek’s back hits them), and then his eyes narrow as he sees Stiles a ways away from him. Stiles just ducks back behind the counter because _fuck that noise_. The man is dragging Derek by his coat, and _now_ Stiles is feeling the most useless he has in _quite_ a while. Since his mom died, actually. Wonderful.

        “My mind, my personality, were _literally_ burned out of me. I’ve been driven by pure instinct.” He drops Derek, grabbing something from his nurse’s pocket.

        “You want forgiveness?” Derek questions, decking his uncle. It doesn’t do much, though. The man barely reacts. He headbutts Derek, putting him within kicking range.

        “I want understanding.” The man growls, and, oh look, Derek is doing a flip. Too bad he cant’t seem to stick the landing. Stiles winces as Derek spits blood, moving a bit further away. “Do you have _any_ idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell, even more slowly coming back to consciousness?” Stiles stumbles within visual range of Derek, and that means the alpha soon, and he flails away. Both his arms and legs are in the air for a few moments. “Yes, becoming an alpha, taking that away from Laura, pushed me over the plateau in the healing  process.”

        Derek gets up, trying to land a punch on his uncle, but he can’t. It’s like there’s another Matrix being made right in front of Stiles, but Derek is getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter. The uncle eventually catches a fist, forcing it backwards with a series of sickening cracks. Derek lets out sounds of pain, and Stiles tries to muffle noises of anger and worry and _fear_. It doesn’t work of course. “I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.” Derek is thrown through the glass barrier, and he starts crawling into a separate room. Stiles isn’t in it, thank god, but he’s still basically paralyzed with fear.

        “I was going to wait for dramatic effect, but…” The man trails off, and he looks into a mirror. When he turns back to Derek, his face is entirely healed. “When you look this good, why wait?” He turns back to Derek, crouching slightly. “Derek, you have to give me a chance to explain. After all, we’re family.” He says, and Stiles tries to stop Laura from running into the room, entirely forgetting that she’s a _ghost_ and nobody else can see her. But something odd happens. Stiles is able to grab her, stopping her effectively before she jumps away, surprised at the feeling of touch.

        Two pairs of eyes that hadn’t been able to see Laura before suddenly focus on her, but then she’s suddenly almost invisible again to Stiles, so he knows the werewolves can’t see her. But they can see the outstretched arm he’d grabbed her with, which happens to be attached to _him_. Stiles decides that now is a good time to book it.


	5. Season One, Episode Ten (AKA Hales Are Problematic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna start updating a chapter a day Chapter 12 because that's when the Sterek actually starts and I don't really want people to suffer through 11 weeks of vague pining

        Laura is able to hear the conversation, so she’s signing it to Stiles as he sits in his car, his fists clenched around the steering wheel, ready to pull out at the sight of any werewolf not named Scott.

        “I’m not helping you kill people.” _Scott._

        “Well, not all of them. Just the responsible ones.” _Peter._ “and that doesn’t have to include…”

        “Allison.” _Derek._

        “You’re on his side?! _”_   _Scott_. “Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?!” Stiles grits his teeth.

        “I feel the same way, Buddy.” Stiles mutters, then nods at Laura to continue. She seems sad. Not quite angry, but almost.

        “It was an.” Laura’s eyes harden. “Accident.”  _Derek_.

        “What?!” _Scott_.  
  
        “It happens, Scott.” _Derek_. _Convincing himself_ Laura signs, and Stiles swallows nervously. He still doesn’t want to touch this situation with a fifty foot pole.

        “I think you’re getting the wrong impression of us. We only want to help you reach your full potential.” _Peter_.

        “By killing my friends.” _Scott_.

        “Sometimes the people closest to you are the ones who’re holding you back the most.” _Peter_. Stiles scowls.

        “If they’re holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you, I’m okay with that.” _Scott_.

        “There’s my boy.” Stiles mutters.

        “Maybe, you could try and see things- From my perspective.” _Peter_. _Claws, visions_ Laura signs, _Half truths_. Stiles drums his fingers nervously on his steering wheel, ducking out of his car and racing into the school through the back entrance, as Laura told him the werewolves were leaving through the side.

        “Dude, we have a problem.” Of course, Stiles is talking about the fact that two werewolves are probably going to fucking kidnap/torture/kill him as much as he’s talking about Scott’s issue. Scott doesn’t _know_ about that problem, so he only thinks Stiles is talking about his.

        “Trust me, I know.” Scott mutters, staring forward.

 

***

 

        Thank god Stiles’ dad was working all night, because he was just barely able to sneak back into the house after sleeping in a shitty motel room for the night before his dad gets home. A few of his things had been moved, but he wouldn’t have even noticed it if Laura hadn’t pointed them out. Scott calls him, causing him to hop in his jeep, pick him up, and speed to the school. “Hey!” Scott greets.

        “Sup!” Stiles says, leaning forwards to be seen.

        “Your friend here was having car trouble, so I’m taking a look.” Allison’s father says, and Stiles raises his brows.

        “Oh!” He says sarcastically.

        “There’s a shop just down the street, I’m sure they have a tow truck.” Scott says, motioning down the street with his thumb.

        “Want a ride?” Stiles asks Jackson, praying he’ll say he’ll just walk, but also hoping he’ll get in so that the hunter doesn't squeeze anything out of him. It’s quiet for a few moments and Scott opens the door. Stiles grins. “Hey, come on Jackson you’re way too pretty to be all out here by yourself.” Stiles teases. Scott furrows his brows, and Jackson nods walking towards the Jeep. Scott gets out to let him in, and Allison’s dad  speaks up.

        “Hey, boys!” He calls, gaining their attention. He walks over and starts Jackson’s car. “Told you I know a few things about cars.” He grins. Stiles gets out of the Jeep, walking around as Scott closes his door.

        “What, are you following me now?” Jackson asks, and Stiles can see Scott’s anger flare up.

        “Yes, you stupid freaking idiot. You almost gave away everything right there!” Scott shouts.

        “What are you talking about?” Jackson questions.

        “He thinks _you’re_ the second beta!” Scott’s voice cracks a bit.

        “W-What?”

        “He thinks you’re me!” Scott lets out a shout of rage, slamming his fist into the side of the Jeep.

        “Dude, my Jeep.” Stiles whines.

        “I could hear your heart beating from a mile away, _literally_. Now, he thinks that there’s something wrong, and now I gotta keep an eye on you so he doesn’t kill you too!” Scott moves to punch the Jeep again.

        “Okay-Okay-Okay, how about we just step away from Stiles’ Jeep?” Stiles suggests, grabbing Scott before he can hit his baby.

        “You know, this is _your_ problem, not mine. Okay? I didn’t say anything, which means that _you’re_ gonna be the one who gets _me_ killed. Okay?! This is your fault!” Jackson shoves Scott into Stiles’ Jeep.

        “Can we stop hitting my Jeep?” Scott shoves Jackson back, and Stiles decides that now is a good time to step in. “Okay, yo ! Stop, alright?” Stiles orders, and he backs up again.

        “When they come after you, I _won’t_ be able to protect you. I can’t protect anyone.” Stiles narrows his eyes as Scott looks at him.

        “Why’re you looking at me?” Stiles questions. Jackson glances at him too.

        “Okay, now you have to do it. Get me what I want, and I will be fine protecting myself.” Jackson says, and Stiles glares a bit.

        “ _No you won’t!_ Trust me, all it does is make things worse.” Scott says, but Jackson _clearly_ isn’t getting it.

        “Oh yeah, really? You can hear _anything_ you want and you can run faster than humanly possible! Sounds like a real hardship, McCall!”

        “Yeah, I can run really fast now, except half the time I’m running from people trying to kill me!”

        “Do you really think that they’re just gonna drop you if you’re actually turned?” Stiles questions because _holy shit is Jackson actually this stupid?_ “You’ll actually be a werewolf then, and if you attack one of them, the others will _kill_ you. No amount of your _parent’s money_ is going to stop that.” Stiles snaps.

        “It ruins your life.” Scott adds, but Stiles thinks that it might be a bit better than Scott is making it out to be.

        “It ruined _your_ life. You had all the power in the world, and you don’t know what to do with it. You know what it’s like? It’s like you’re sixteen, and somebody bought you a _porsche_ when they should’ve started you off with a nice little honda. Me? I drive a porsche.” Jackson gets in his car and drives away, and it’s actually Scott that holds Stiles back from killing a man.

        “Who the hell does he think he is? It’s not like _he_ bought a porsche! His _parents_ bought him a porsche, and I’m fucking shocked that he hasn’t even crashed the damn thing yet! He has _no fucking right to_ -”

        “ _Stiles_.” Scott snaps, effectively shutting Stiles up. “I don’t really care about what he thinks at this point. It’s not like I could turn him, anyway. The _alpha_ has to do it, and he isn’t going to accept a whiney douchebag into his pack because he’s throwing a fit.” Scott says, and Stiles takes _multiple_ calming breaths. “Speaking of the alpha, what the hell happened last night? It had to be intense if you’re not talking about it.”

        “I- I would have to show you something to- uh- to get you to even _start_ understanding what’s going on, Scott. It’s kinda- uh- huge, alright? My dad thinks I’m kinda crazy because of it, but I can only do things with a full moon like you’ll probably ask me to and- When’s the next full moon?” Stiles asks.

        “Next Thursday.”

        “Alright, okay. I’ll show it to you Thursday. All you gotta know is that I really don’t want to touch Derek or Peter Hale with a hundred foot pole at the moment.” Stiles says in a way of explanation, Scott just raises a brow.

        “This sounds heavy, man. Are you sure you want to show me?” Scott asks, and Stiles raises both of his brows.

        “I was literally the first person you turned to when you were turned into a _werewolf_. I should’ve just told you then, but whatever. I gotta go, though. Dad’s getting home early and I don’t want him to bring home fast food and eat too much of it. You know how shitty he is when it comes to following his diet.” Stiles says, and Scott nods. “Do you need me to drop you off at your house?” He asks, and Scott shakes his head.

        “I think I’ll just walk, actually. I gotta hit up the library anyway. It’s on the way.” Scott says, and Stiles nods as he climbs into the Jeep.

        “Alright, see ya’, Man.”

        “Later.”

 

***

 

        Stiles pauses, bringing the lip carton away from his lips as he sees his Dad’s actual anger and confusion aimed at whatever he’s working on. “What’cha doin’?” He asks, pausing at the doorway.

        “Work.” His Dad replies shortly.

        “Anything I can help with?” Stiles asks, hoping to get some insight with the Hale case as that’s probably what his dad is working on. Or the recent murders.

        “You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that’d be awfully nice.” Stiles rushes to put the milk jug down and grab some Jack Daniels and a glass. He walks over to the kitchen table, placing the glass down.

        “Any leads?” Stiles asks, sitting down and moving to grab one of the papers.

        “Hey!” John snaps, hitting Stiles’ hand with a pen. “You know I can’t discuss it with you.” John murmurs, and Stiles picks up the alcohol again. “Not too much…”

        “Okay…. There you go, Dad.” Stiles says, handing the man the full glass of whiskey. Stiles stares in shock as his dad chugs the entire thing as easily as he could a shot.

        “Yeah, and Derek Hale would be a Hale of a lot- Hale of a lot? “

        “Hell of a lot?” Stiles offers, wondering how the alcohol has already affected his dad this much.

        “Hell… Yes. He would be a _hell_ of a lot easier to catch if we could just get a picture of him.” Stiles furrows his brows, looking at his dad head on.

        “How do you not have a picture of him?” Stiles questions, his hands flailing a bit with the question.

        “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s like everytime I try to get a mugshot it’s like two… Laser beams were pointing at the camera.” Stiles grabs the picture, and he raises his brows because his dad isn’t wrong. When Derek flashes his eyes, it obviously allows him to make it difficult for photos to be taken of his face.

        “Nice…” Stiles whispers, hopefully quiet enough for his dad not to notice. Judging by the lack of reaction, he’d managed.

        “God, that alcohol hit me like a brick and _I_ \- I said way too much and if you ever repeat _any_ of that-”

        “Dad, it’s me. I’m not gonna repeat any of that. C’mon.” Stiles feels a bit hurt, but he buries it quickly.

        “But they’re all connected! I mean the bus driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.” Stiles narrows his eyes, leaning over to read the paper.

        “Terminated under suspicion of fraud.” He reads.

        “Exactly.” John says.

        “Who else?” Stiles asks, and his dad picks up a few pictures.

        “The clerk who got his throat slashed? He’s a convicted felon with a history of arson.” John tells Stiles.

        “What about the other two guys?” Stiles asks, “The guys who got killed in the woods?”

        “Priors all over their records, including-”

        “Arson.” Stiles finishes, slowly looking away from his dad. “That means they all have something to do with fire…” He trails off so quietly he’s _positive_ that his dad doesn’t hear him. “Another shot?” He asks, picking up the bottle of Jack.

        “No- No, no more.” John says.

        “C’mon, Dad. You work so hard, you deserve it.” John is quiet for a bit, and Stiles thinks he might cave.

        “Oh my God.” John groans, rubbing at his face. “I’m gonna have such a hangover.” John complains.

        “You mean you’re gonna have such a good night’s sleep.” Stiles replies picking up his dad’s glass again. “I’m gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell.” Stiles continues once his back is to his father, and he pours another full glass. It takes his dad two more glasses to get his dad drunk enough that he’ll fall asleep as soon as he touches his bed.

        “Oh, Stiles, I just have so many questions.” His dad starts talking again, and Stiles leans in a bit.

        “Like what?” He asks.

        “Like Derek. Why kill everyone involved with a fire? And why kill his sister, I mean, she-she had nothing to do with it.” Stiles’ eyes flicker to Laura, but she just shakes her head. “And why make it look like some kinda animal did it? When that- When that cougar ended up in the parking lot, I had a check with animal control. You know- You know that incidents of wild animals have been up 70% the last few months? It’s-s just s-s-so _crazy_ cause they’re all just coming out of the woods and-and…”

        “Or something’s scaring them.” Stiles mutters, leaning back. Stiles stares at the table, the corner of his mouth tugging down. He can’t tell his dad. He _can’t_. It’ll just- It’ll just put him into more danger, and as much as it’s killing him inside to lie straight to his dad’s face, he can’t handle him being in even more danger than he already is.

        “You know, I miss talking to you. It’s like we never have the chance.” John starts, and Stiles starts pulling his phone out.

        “You know, Dad. I have to make a phone call, I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” Stiles says, climbing out of his seat.

        “I do. I miss it.” John mumbles, and Stiles starts to walk away. “You know, I miss your mom.” Stiles freezes where he stands.

        “What’d  you say?” Stiles asks, feeling like all the oxygen in his body has been punched out of him. The sheriff starts to grab the bottle, but Stiles is there instantly, putting his hand on his dad’s hand as he lowers the bottle back to the table.

        “Thanks.” John smiles sadly at the table, and Stiles feels like a trapped animal. He can’t- He can’t just _leave_ his dad here like this. He’s drunk and he’s sad and it’s never a good thing when he starts to talk about Mom. Thankfully, his dad is swaying and obviously ready for sleep. Stiles moves, helping him out of his seat. He pulls one of his dad’s arms over his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. He practically carries his dad upstairs and into his bedroom, and he carefully unlaces his dad’s shoes, taking them off along with the collared shirt he’d been wearing.

        He contemplates helping his dad out of his jeans, but then decides he’d rather not see his dad in his boxers and instead just covers him with a blanket, walking out of the room silently. He closes the door behind him, and he goes back downstairs. He stares at the bottle of jack for a few seconds, and he’s reaching for it as his phone rings. Stiles jumps away from the bottle like it burned him, staring at it with wide eyes before he swears and answers his phone. “H-Hello? What is it?” Stiles asks, not unkindly.

        “ _I- Peter. Peter was here and he- He’s got my Mom, Stiles._ ” Scott is so totally panicking and it’s freaking _Stiles_ out.

        “Do you need me to come over with a PDW and wolfsbane bullets?” Stiles offers. “It sounds like amazing stress relief.”

        “ _No, I- He took her on a date. Not an actual date. Like-Like he’s manipulating her. He’s gonna- Oh, God. Stiles he’s gonna_ _change_ _her. But she thinks she’s just going on a date!_ ” Scott shouts, and Stiles can hear him running.

        “Oh, okay- uh. I have a plan. Where are you? Do you know where they’re going?” Stiles asks, walking outside, closing and locking the door quietly. He climbs into his Jeep, and Stiles jumps as the back seat opens.

        “They’re going to that new Italian place. Gogogo!” Scott shouts, and Stiles guns it, thankful that he knows for a fact his dad won’t be waking up until his alarm at _least_. Stiles drives quickly, barely slowing for corner or lights at empty roads. They just _barely_ make it to Melissa in time, and Stiles didn’t know it was her until Scott told him it was Peter’s car right in front of them. Stiles barely manages to slow in time, and he rams into the car just enough to bump it and freak Melissa out just enough for her to climb out of the car.

        “Oh, are you kidding me?!” She shouts, slamming her door. Stiles rubs his neck as he climbs out of the car, because he actually hurt his neck. “Stiles!” She snaps.

        “Ms.McCall? Wow this is- This is a coincidence. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you!” Stiles exclaims, and he hopes his heart stays even because he isn’t really lying. Sure, not telling the whole truth, but he really _didn’t_ see Melissa, just the back of Peter’s head.

        “We were parked on the side of the road!” Melissa shouts, and Stiles motions to the cars close to him.

        “I know, but look at how close the other cars are. I think I may have gotten whiplash.” Stiles rubs at his neck again, still not lying.

        “Whiplash?! _You_ hit _us_!” Melissa shouts, and Stiles winces slightly.

        “I know, I’m sorry.” He mutters. “But there’s something actually wrong with my neck.” Stiles tells the woman, dropping his hand quickly.He can see Scott start running out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t react, and he doesn’t even look at him for more than half a second. Peter turns to Stiles, and the teen suddenly remembers he’s been doing his best to _avoid_ the older werewolf.

        “Do you mind if I steal Stiles for a few seconds?” Peter asks, his hand slamming down onto Stiles shoulder, nearly making the teen’s legs give out.

        “I-Yeah. Go ahead?” Melissa’s statement sounds like a question. Stiles tries to portray with his eyes how much he needs to be taken away from this man, but Melissa is already looking at the car, her back turned to Stiles as Peter forcefully makes Stiles walk with him.

        “So, what was that the other day?” Stiles’ heart and mind is racing, and so is his mind as he tries to come up with a half-truth.

        “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like that.” That’s true enough. He’s never seen a ghost suddenly be able to be seen by others without Stiles’ abilities. Peter turns to face Stiles, far enough from wandering eyes and acute ears to hear the conversation. He looks amused, and even a bit impressed. Stiles is damned terrified.

        “That’s a nifty ability you’ve got there, isn’t it?” Stiles tries to control his breathing. “Being able to come up with things like that. Half-truths, so you don’t feel too guilt-ridden about what you do. What you say. You’ll have to do better with your expressions if you want to lie to somebody like me, though. And your emotions. You reek of fear, Stiles. I’m not sure why, not sure why you should have any reason to be so scared of me.” He wants Stiles to come out and say that he can talk to Laura, and then he’ll be able to kill him without mercy. Like hell that’s going to happen, though.

        “Thank you. I appreciate the constructive criticism.” Stiles says sarcastically, as that’s something he does when his life's in danger, apparently. Peter’s eyes harden briefly, as he can’t get the answer he’s looking for. “I’m also pretty good at drawing, and, occasionally, singing.” His self preservation instincts have just disappeared, apparently. “And apparently, you’ve forgotten all of those people you’ve killed, yeah? Or the fact that I’m now on the list of people you’ve tried to kill.” Stiles shifts away from Peter, but the man shifts so he’s still equally able to grab Stiles and throw him like he’s a football.

        “Do you or do you not know Laura Hale?”

        “Of course I know who Laura Hale is, my dad _is_ the sheriff, and I _was_ the one to uncover her body. Dumb mistake, really. Look at all the trouble it got me into.” Stiles says, tilting his head as he tries to steer the conversation away from Laura.

        “But that’s not what I asked, Stiles. Do _you know_ Laura Hale? Personally?” Peter is determined, and Stiles swallows nervously.

        “Do I know her enough to have her talk with me?” Technically, the answer is no, since Stiles speaks and she signs. Just on the most _technical_ level, but it’s enough that he isn’t exactly lying. “No.” Peter is silent, regarding Stiles for a few moments with a genuinely impressed glint in his eyes.

        “I won’t be getting anywhere with these questions, will I?” A corner of his mouth turns up a bit, and where Stiles finds that extremely attractive on Derek, he finds it repulsive on Peter. Stiles makes a face.

        “Absolutely not.” Stiles replies with false kindness, even throwing in the sugary sweet smile of poisoned dessert.

        “You may want to get back to your friend’s mother now. She’ll need a ride home.” Peter says, and then he turns and walks into the forest that seems to be _everywhere_ in Beacon Hills. Stiles narrows his eyes, because Peter basically disappears once he’s behind the trees. Stiles turns back to Melissa.

        “Do you need a ride home?” Stiles asks, approaching her. “I really do feel bad, and Peter just fucking left. It’s the least I can do.” Stiles says, rubbing his sore neck. Melissa actually looks a bit worried for him, so he drops his hand quickly.

        “Yea-Yeah. Alright.” Melissa mutters.

        “Scott’s gonna crash at my place, is that okay?” Stiles asks as they’re driving to Melissa’s house.  The woman nods, and Stiles clenches his jaw as he continues looking at the road. “Alright, cool.” Stiles drums his fingers on the steering wheel, parking in front of Melissa’s house. “Have a good night, Ms.McCall.” Stiles murmurs.

        “You too, Stiles.” Melissa answers, eyeing his neck before she starts climbing out of the car. “Uh, try putting a heating pad on your neck, alright?” She says, and Stiles smiles a bit before he nods slowly.

        “Yeah. Alright.”


	6. Season One, Episode Eleven (AKA wtf Creeperwolf)

        “Look again.” Stiles lets out the most suffering sounding sigh in the history of sighs he’s so far sighed.

        “It’s not here.” He says as Scott crawls over his bed. “So you lost your phone. Why don’t you just get a new one?” Stiles knows that Scott can afford it.

        “I can’t afford a new one.” Or maybe not. “I can’t do this alone. We have to find Derek.” The two are obviously no longer talking about looking for Scott’s phone.

        “Well, A) You’re not alone, you have me!” Stiles lets a sarcastic grin appear on his face, but he drops both the grin and his arms as Scott ignores him. “And B) Didn’t you say Derek walked into gunfire. He sounds pretty- dead.” Stiles’ voice cracks as something within him rolls violently.

        “The Argent’s plan is to use him to get to the alpha, they’re not gonna kill him.” Scott has no clue how relieved these words actually make Stiles.

        “Okay, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? Let them use Derek to get Peter,” Stiles pauses as pants fly past his face, “problem solved.” Stiles doesn’t want to risk Derek getting killed, but at least this way he knows that Derek won’t be killed until Peter is caught.

        “Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!” Scott shouts. “I can’t-” Scott almost falls into a bookshelf, “protect her on my own.” Stiles is extremely tempted to make a disgusted sound, but he fights against it. “Which means _we_ gotta find Derek first. Just- Just help me.” Scott’s voice cracks, and Stiles gives Laura a disbelieving look like he hasn’t slept for the last two nights because Derek has been kidnapped by crazy hunters. She very obviously doesn’t fall for his act.

        “You know, you probably lost it when you two were fighting. Remember that? He was trying to kill you?” _And you were trying to kill him,_ “Because you interrupted him trying to kill Jackson.” This is all a massive fucking mess. “You starting to see a pattern of violent behavior here?” Stiles questions, looking up at Scott.

        “He wasn’t going to kill anyone. And I’m not letting him die.” Scott says slowly, like he’s talking to a child. Stiles makes a face and leans back, acting like he’s annoyed and not completely terrified for Derek. Insulting words are at the tip of Stiles’ tongue, and he knows that he’d probably ask Scott about letting him die, but he physically cannot say anything along those lines. Instead he just leans back, rubbing at the back of his neck with a worried “fuck” because these emotions seem to be passing lust and turning into a fucking _crush_. Stiles glances up again as Scott’s head whips up.

        “What?” He asks.

        “My mom just got home from work.” Scott starts, his voice sounding a bit rough as he listens to whatever his mom is saying. He starts to look sad as he turns around, leaning against his desk. He closes his eyes, letting out a somewhat shaky breath.

        “Is she okay?” Stiles asks, and Scott shakes his head. “What’s she doing?” Stiles asks, and Scott swallows thickly.

        “Crying.” His voice breaks on the one words, and Stiles watches as SCott moves to sit in front of him. Stiles lets out a somewhat sad sigh.

        “Scott. You can’t protect everyone.” Stiles says, staring his friend in the eyes. Scott looks up at him, taking another deep breath.

        “I have to.” Stiles winces, and then he takes a deep breath, clenching his jaw as he looks away.

        “Is your mom still…” It’s a bad subject to change to, but it’s better than Scott’s slowly forming depression.

        “Yeah. I- I think I’m gonna go practice lacrosse or something.” Scott mutters, and Stiles leaves after he’s sure Scott is alright.

 

***

 

        Stiles slides in next to Scott, closing Jackson’s locker as he pulls his hand away. The blonde looks as confused as Stiles feels at this sudden turn of events. “You want _me_ to take her to the formal?” Jackson questions, and Stiles crosses his arms because _god damn is this a stupid idea_.

        “I don’t want you to, I need you to.” Scott says.

        “Screw you.” Jackson replies, his tone still even. “You know what, screw you to.” Stiles raises a brow. “In fact, screw each other.”

        “Hey- You know we saved your life, right?” Stiles questions.

        “He left me for _dead_.” Jackson tells Stiles, pointing at Scott.

        “I got shot for you.” Scott says after a brief silence.

        “Oh yeah? Show me the bullet wound.” Jackson orders, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

        “Werewolf healing, dumbass. If the bite disappeared in a day, maybe less, why do you think a bullet wound would be any different?” Stiles questions.

        “It healed.”

        “Convenient.” Jackson says after humming sarcastically. Stiles didn’t think sarcastic humming was possible, but Jackson just managed.

        “Look- Don’t do it for me. Do it for Allison. She’s in danger, alright? Like, around the clock danger, and she needs someone to keep an eye on her at the dance.” Jackson turns to glance at Stiles, and the other teen raises a brow as Jackson turns back to Scott.

        “Have her dad do it. Okay, he’s the one actually equipped to handle this.”

        “How am I supposed to do that a-a-and keep him from finding out about me?” Scott hisses, and Jackson leans forward a bit.

        “Not my problem.” He glances at Stiles again as he starts to walk away, but Scott’s arm shoots out and his hand slams against the locker, effectively stopping Jackson from walking away.

        “You’re her friend too.” Stiles points out. Jackson is about to deny it, but Scott speaks up with a good argument.

        “You _are_. All that time you spent getting to know her to get to me, you can’t tell me you didn’t get to know her and _like_ her.”

        “Even if you don’t _like_ her, you don’t exactly hate her like you hate me.” Stiles points out. “No way in hell you hate her enough to let her be in danger of _dying_.” Jackson furrows his brows as he briefly stares at Stiles.

        “It’s Allison.” Scott says like that solves everything. “It’s impossible to hate her.” Okay, that’s actually a pretty good point.

        “What if I get hurt?” Jackson asks.

        “Then it’s worth it.” Scott says, and Stiles is about to point out the flaws in that, but Jackson speaks up before he does.

        “Not to me.” He shoves past Scott and pushes Stiles into the lockers, but surprisingly not as hard as usual. Stiles lets out a disappointed half-sigh.

        “Well I shouldn’t say I told you so, because it’s not strong enough. How about I’m always right, and you should never ever disagree ever, for the sake of your wolvelyhood.” Stiles says, noticing how Scott slowly seems to be getting more and more pissed off the further away Jackson gets.

        “I’m not done.” Scott nearly growls, stalking around the lockers.

        “ _You’re not done_.” Stiles sighs, leaning against said locker.

        “One more thing.” Stiles can hear Scott grab Jackson’s attention, and then growling. And then Stiles can hear Scott slamming Jackson against a door. Jackson quickly says that he’ll take Allison to the Formal, but he makes sure to let Scott know it’s _definitely_ only as friends. With absolutely no chance of it being as anything _but_ as friends. Stiles nearly dies laughing as soon as Jackson is out of the room, but Scott is dragging him out to spy on Jackson only about five seconds after he leaves.

        “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” Stiles assures Scott after Allison and Jackson start walking away.

        “I’m still going.”

        “Is that such a good idea? Do you even have a date?” Stiles asks.

        “Not yet.”

        “Do you have a suit?”  
  
        “Not yet.” Scott sounds more annoyed.

        “Do you have a _ticket_ to the Formal? A ride there?” Stiles questions, and Scott sighs as he turns around.

        “No, and no.”

        “So,” Stiles asks just for clarification, “you’re gonna ride your bike to a dance that you’re not even allowed to go to, without a date, a suit, or a way in, with werewolves and werewolf _hunters_ all out to kick your little werewolf ass?” Scott is grinning a bit.

        “Yeah, you gonna help me?” Scott asks, and Stiles smiles.

        “Hell yeah.” Stiles says, and he grabs Scott from around the shoulders and leads Scott to his next class.

 

***

 

        Stiles parks as he sees Scott sneaking across the roof, and he hops out of the jeep, quickly going around to open Lydia’s door. He thought he’d be more excited about being asked out by _Lydia_. You know, the girl who he’s had a crush on since third grade? But right now he’s more worried about Derek if he’s being perfectly honest. “Jackson. You look handsome.” Lydia greets the buff blonde.

        “Obviously.” Jackson’s words are a bit too mushed together for Stiles to understand, and the teen thinks that Jackson may be drunk.

        “I don’t care, I _don’t_ want compliments, I will _not_ fall prey to society’s desire to turn girls into emotional insecure neurotics who pull up their dresses at the first flappy remark.” Lydia snaps, and Stiles turns to her. She sighs heavily.

        “Well, I think you look beautiful.” Stiles says, and Lydia pauses, smiling a bit.

        “Really?” She asks, and Stiles smiles a bit as he nods, and he holds out his arm. Stiles is a bit surprised that she grabs it, and he leads Lydia inside, surprisingly _not_ ecstatic that Lydia had smiled at him genuinely in the romantic and/or horny way. They sit down after grabbing punch, and Stiles is starting to get bored after almost half an hour when he sees Jackson and Allison walk past. He turns to Lydia.

        “Wanna dance?” He asks.

        “Pass.” Lydia says, and Stiles feels a bit of hurt flash through him. He stands up.

        “You know what, let me try that again. Lydia, I used to have a crush on you since I was in third grade, alright? I’m not- I think I might be gay, so that crush is slowly fading, but that’s besides the point. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one who actually knows how smart you are. Uh-uh, and that once you’re done pretending to be a nit-wit, you’ll eventually go off and create some insane mathematical serum that wins you the nobel prize.” Stiles says. Lydia turns away, a corner of her lips tugging up in a _I can’t believe what this little shit is saying_ kind of way.

        “Fields Medal.” She says as she faces Stiles again.

        “What?” Lydia stands up and walks over to Stiles.

        “Nobel doesn’t have a prize for mathematics. A Fields Medal is the one I’ll be winning.” Lydia says, and she grabs Stiles by the hand and drags him onto the dancefloor. “Now, what’s this about you having a gay crisis?” Lydia grins and holy shit satan walks this earth. Stiles flushes a bit, glancing around.

        “Uh- Let’s just say that I might have a think for muscular guys with a face that rivals Adonis who enjoy slamming me against walls.” Stiles mutters, and Lydia raises a brow. The two start slow dancing as a slow song comes on.

        “That’s oddly specific, Stiles. And kinky.” Stiles makes a face, but doesn’t deny it, and Lydia starts laughing. “What other features?” She asks, hands tightening behind Stiles’ neck to let the teen know he can’t escape.

        “The greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. A jawline sharp enough to cut myself on. Dark hair, and he’s possibly the only guy on this planet who can actually pull off a neck beard. Besides maybe Jake Gyllenhaal.” Stiles mutters, and Lydia looks him over carefully. She looks like she’s about to say something, but she changes it after looking around.

        “I need to find Jackson.” She mutters, and Stiles nods a bit sadly as he lets her lead him out of the crowd. She leaves the building, and Stiles walks into the halls after getting some more punch. Jackson wanders into his line of vision, and he narrows his eyes.

        “Jackson? Where the hell have you been? Did Lydia ever find you?” He asks. Jackson lets out a nervous breath, looking near terrified. “What? What’s wrong?” Jackson swallows nervously.

        “I- I-I was out behind the school and I was out-” Stiles narrows his eyes.

        “What happened?” Jackson doesn’t say anything. “Jackson, what did you do?” The blonde doesn’t look at Stiles for a few moments. When he does finally look at Stiles and speak, the dark haired teen wishes he hadn’t.

        “I thought- I think I saw two red eyes. And then I chased after them, because I want to be stronger. Faster. Better. But it was hunters I found. But I _swear_ I saw eyes.” Jackson says, and Stiles’ eyes widen as he shoves Jackson out of the way and starts running to the lacrosse field. The lights are being turned on one by one, and Lydia is standing in the middle, confused as hell by what Stiles can see.

        “Lydia!” He shouts, sprinting across the field. “Lydia run!” He screams, and Lydia turns as Peter grows fangs and claws. They cut through Lydia like she’s made of paper. Stiles should stop running, but he just speeds up, falling down onto his knees and half-sliding to her. Peter looks up, blood running down his chin as he growls at Stiles. The teen barely leans back as he hesitates to touch her. “Don’t kill her. Please.” Peter stops growling as Stiles speaks, raising a clawed hand away from the teenage girl’s body.

        “Of course not. Just tell me how to find Derek.” Peter orders.

        “Wha-What?” Stiles stutters, his thoughts a blurry mess as his gaze flickers between Lydia and Peter.

        “Tell me how to find Derek.” Peter says a bit slowly, one of his claws tracing Lydia’s face. Stiles’ stomach drops. He absolutely doesn’t want Lydia to die, but he’s slowly starting to care about Derek too, and he doesn’t want the werewolf to die either.

        “I-I-I-I don’t know that! How would I know that?” Stiles questions.

        “Because you’re the clever one, aren’t you?” Peter questions, looking up at Stiles with terrifyingly faked innocence. “And because deception has a particularly accurate sense, Stiles.” Blood is still dripping from Peter’s face. “Tell me the truth, or I will rip her apart.”  
  
        “Look, I don’t know, okay? I swear to god I have no idea.” Stiles can’t even look at Peter for more than a second, and he keeps looking back down at Lydia.

        “ _Tell me!_ ” Peter thunders, what’s likely his alpha status changing his words so they’re deeper and even more fucking terrifying. Stiles closes his eyes, nearly crying.

        “Okay- Okay look. I-I think he knew.” Stiles starts.

        “Knew what?”

        “Derek. I think he- I think he knew he was gonna get caught.”

        “By the Argents?” Peter’s voice is still deadly, but he’s dropped the alpha tone.

        “Yeah.”

        “And?”

        “When- When they were shot I think he- He took Scott’s phone.”

        “Why?”

        “They all have GPS now. So if he still has it, and if it’s still on, you can find him.” Stiles is trembling, and even his breathing is shaky. Peter looks back at Lydia, and then he stands up, towering over Stiles (who’s still terrified to even _move_ ).

        “Now, was that so hard?” He asks, and he stands. “You. You’re going to help me track Derek down.”


	7. Season One, Episode Twelve (AKA So Many Buckets of Ice Water)

        Stiles is frozen, sitting on his knees as he stares down at Lydia. Peter is standing over both him and the injured girl. “No. I’m not just letting you leave her here.” Stiles mutters, and Peter wipes at his face with a white cloth.

        “You don’t have a choice, Styles. You’re coming with me.”

        “Look, just kill me. I don’t care anymore!” Stiles shouts, and peter places two claws under Stiles’ chin and forces him to stand. Stiles is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t say anything as Peter drops his hand.

        “Call your friend. Tell Jackson where she is. That’s all you get.” Peter says, motioning towards Lydia with his head as he speaks. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, and Peter starts walking away.

        “ _Stilinski_.” Jackson picks up his phone. Thank God.

        “Yeah- Yeah it’s me. Jackson, I need you to listen carefully, okay? He isn’t gonna let me repeat this. Lydia, you know, the girl you dumped who’s still in love with you? She’s out in the lacrosse field. She’s not looking good, okay? Okay? So I-I-I-I need you to come and get her and get her to help.” Stiles says, and Jackson is quiet for a few moments.

        “ _I’m coming. Stay where you are._ ”

        “Jackson, you don’t understand. I _ca_ -” Peter grabs Stiles’ phone and hangs it up before handing it back before dragging Stiles to his jeep and forcing him to start driving. They’re a ways from the school when Peter glances over at Stiles, who doesn’t look back at the wolf.

        “Don’t feel _bad_. If she lives she’ll become a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.” Peter says, like that fixes something. Stiles feels anger flare up, burning through his veins.

        “Yeah, and once a month she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear me apart.” Stiles says around a lump in his throat, his voice cracking a bit at the end. Of course, if Lydia does turn then it’s almost certain that Stiles is gonna be the one watching over another werewolf on nights of the full moon.

        “Well, actually, considering she’s a woman, twice a month.” Peter says, turning to look at Stiles as the teen gives him a look of disbelief. A _what the hell is wrong with this dude_ kind of look. He turns back to the street, clenching his jaw as he speeds up and tightens his hands on the steering wheel.

        “So much anger. And is that.. Worry I smell?” Peter questions, and Stiles clenches his jaw tighter before speaking.

        “Yeah, maybe it’s because I just saw you _maul_ my best friend?” Stiles checks his rear view mirror before turning into a parking building when Peter tells him to do so. Peter looks slightly amused.

        “No, the worry was there even before I helped persuade you into helping me. But Scott is safe, and so was nearly everybody else you knew. Could it have been worry for my dear nephew Derek?” Peter grins as Stiles snaps a glare in his direction.

        “Mind your own damn business.” Stiles snaps, parking where Peter orders. He climbs out of his Jeep, prepared to run in the opposite direction, but Peter grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him along with him. He stops behind a black car, his grip tightening on Stiles threateningly before he lets go and starts opening the trunk.

        “Who’s car is this?” Stiles asks.

        “It used to belong to my nurse.” Peter says, and Stiles pales a bit.

        “What happened to your nur- _Oh my god_!” Stiles jumps back a bit, arms flying up to protect him from nothing at the sight of the dead body in the back of the car. A certain dead redhead appears next to the car at the same time Peter opens the car's trunk.  _I fucking knew I was gonna regret asking_. Peter carelessly moves the dead woman’s arm from the bag and then grabs said bag. He presses it against Stiles’ chest, and the teen doesn’t realize he’s holding the bag because he’s still staring at the _dead body_. Her ghost is cackling somewhere nearby, and that definitely doesn’t help _anything_. Peter looks at Stiles’ face, raising a brow and he looks back at the body.

        “I got better.” Peter says simply before he closes the trunk. Peter pulls out a laptop from the bag, opening it and putting it on the trunk of the car.

        “Good luck getting a signal down here.” Stiles mutters, and Peter pulls out a phone, handing it to Stiles. “Oh, iFind.” Stiles says, his voice cracking a bit because _there goes that plan_. “And you’re a mac guy.” Stiles continues as Peter opens the laptop. “Does that go for all werewolves or is that just a personal preference?” He asks, obviously trying to stall. Peter picks up on it easily.

        “Turn it on, and get connected.” Peter orders.

        “You’re really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here.” Stiles mutters, flipping the phone over to see the SSID and Wifi Key codes. Stiles clears his throat as he comes up with another plan. “Look, you still need Scott’s username and password and I’m sorry but I don’t know them.” Stiles bullshits. Peter doesn’t even look at him.

        “You know both of them.” Peter says, and, oh, look, another bucket of ice water.

        “No, I really don’t.” Peter does turn to Stiles at that, looking unimpressed.

        “Even if I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you’re lying.” One more shot, maybe?

        “Dude, I swear to god- Umph!” Stiles is grabbed the back of the neck and his head is slammed onto the back of the car. Stiles lets out a quiet sound as pain rushes through him, and he closes his eyes so no tears are seen.

        “I can be very persuasive, Stiles.” Peter says, and then there’s _more_ ice water being washed over Stiles. _Fun_. “Don’t make me persuade you.” Stiles clenches his jaw, breathing heavily before he nods.

        “What happens after you find Derek?” Stiles’ voice shakes a bit at the question as his stomach rolls dangerously.

        “Don’t think, Stiles. _Type_.” Peter snaps. Stiles closes his eyes briefly as he does as Peter ordered.

        “You’re gonna kill people, aren’t you?” He asks.

        “Only the responsible ones.” Peter says, a break between the first word and the rest of his sentence. That’s… That’s a bit odd.

        “Look, if I do this you have to promise to leave Scott out of it.” Stiles is in _no place_ to make demands, but fuck it. He might die anyway. Peter takes a deep breath, looking forward and not at Stiles and that’s actually kinda terrifying.

        “Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?” Stiles’ eyes flicker between Laura and the crazy nurse (who started fighting at some point) and then back at Peter. “It’s because their favorite prey are too large to be taken down by one wolf alone. I need Derek _and_ Scott.” Peter doesn’t even pause between his sentences, and Stiles takes a shaky breath. “I need both of them.”

        “He’s not gonna help you.” Stiles points out, sounding defeated and boy does that piss him off.

        “Oh, he will.” Peter says, and oh, Stiles definitely does _not_ like that tone. It sounds like he’s planning on killing _Stiles_. “Because, it’ll save Allison. And _you_ will, because it will save Scott.” Peter says, and Stiles grinds his teeth together helplessly. “Your best friend, who you know so well you even have his username and password.” Stiles sighs and swallows nervously, typing in the username. “His username is Allison?” Stiles types in the password. “His password is _also_ Allison?” Stiles would laugh if it wasn’t for the high chance of death that’s circling around him dangerously.

        “Still want him in your pack?” Stiles questions, actually half meaning it. Peter looks completely done with everything as Stiles starts to track Scott’s phone. Peter turns around as the computer beeps. “Wait, what? _That’s_ where they’re keeping him?” Stiles almost shouts. “His own house?” Peter shakes his head.

        “Not at it. Under it. I know exactly what that is.” Stiles jolts a bit as he hears a howl/growl/ _thing_ , but thankfully Peter isn’t looking at him. He also isn’t looking at Stiles when he jumps again at the sound of another howl. “And I’m not the only one.” Stiles acts confused, because it’s obvious that he shouldn’t be able to hear the howls. Peter puts the laptop back in the bag, but this time he puts the bag in the back of the car rather than in the trunk. “Give me your keys.” He orders, and Stiles’ mouth opens in a bit as he prepares to say _like hell you’re getting my baby_. He sighs, biting back the words as he takes out his keys.

        “Careful, she grinds in second.” He says, giving Peter the keys. That he promptly crushes. Stiles takes back his keys, staring at them a bit. “So, you’re not gonna kill me?” Stiles is honest to god _shocked_. Peter closes the door again, walking towards Stiles who takes a step back. _Should’ve kept my mouth shut_. “Oh, God.”

        “Don’t you understand yet?” Peter asks. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

        “You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs and you’re _not_ the bad guy here?” Stiles forgets to add the _who’s dropping people like flies_ into the mix.

        “I like you, Stiles.” Stiles lets out a breath of air, clenching his jaw because that’s never a good thing. “Since you’ve helped me, I’m going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?” Stiles pauses.

        “What?”

        “Do you want, the bite? If it doesn’t kill you, and it could, you’ll become like us.” _What the everloving fuck is going on?_ Laura had managed to somehow kill a ghost, and she looks just as confused as Stiles is.

        “Like you.” Stiles mutters, meaning the murders.

        “Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?” If the dude wasn’t batshit insane, Stiles might’ve respected the sarcasm. “That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I need a new pack. It could’ve easily been you. You’re every bit as powerful as him.” Laura signs, _more_ behind Peter and Stiles _very nearly_ rolls his eyes. Thank God he manages to stop himself. “You _could_ be just as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, faster, more popular. Watching him get the girl.” _Boy, in my case_. “You’d be equals. Maybe more.” Peter grabs Stiles’ wrist, tilting his head toward it. “Yes or no?” Stiles very nearly caves. Mostly because _hey, maybe Derek won’t hate me as much if I’m human_. But as Peter goes to bite him, he rips his wrist out of the werewolf’s grip.

        “I don’t want to be like you.” Stiles snaps, breathing heavily, and Peter looks a bit impressed but he’s grinning.

        “Do you know what I heard just then? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ‘I don’t want’. You may believe that you’re telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye Stiles.” Stiles wants to say something. Anything to deny the werewolf’s words, but he can’t find his words so he’s silent as the werewolf climbs into the car and drives off.

 

***

 

        Stiles has to walk to the hospital because of Peter. Run, more like. The teen throws open the correct floor’s door, walking over to Lydia’s room quickly. His dad steps in front of him, shoving him back a bit. “You know what? It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna _kill you_.” John threatens, and Stiles’ hands shake a bit.

        “Look I’m- I’m sorry I lost the keys to my Jeep I had to run all the way here.” Stiles says, still breathing a bit faster than usual.

        “Stiles, I don’t _care_!” John snaps, and Stiles winces a bit, but he can’t move his eyes from Lydia. She’s broken and bruised and still a bit bloody in areas that the nurses hadn’t gotten to yet. Stiles feels sick.

        “Is she- Is she gonna be okay?” Stiles asks, and John looks back at the strawberry blonde. Lydia’s mom is in the room with her.

        “I don’t know.” John says when he turns back to Stiles. Laura is doing something nearby, but Stiles can’t move his eyes to look. “Partially because I don’t know what happened. She lost a lot of blood but- but there’s something else going on with her.” John says, and Stiles bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from throwing up. This is all his fault. He wasn’t fast enough and he didn’t find Jackson quick enough and he should’ve ran _faster_ and-

        “What- What do you mean?” Stiles hears himself ask.

        “The doctors say it’s like she’s having an allergic reaction. Her body is going into shock. Stiles can’t look his dad in the eyes, and John notices as he tries to get his son’s attention again. “Did you see anything? I mean- Do you have any idea about who or what attacked her?” Stiles looks up a bit slowly, feeling like he’s going to hurl.

        “No- No I have- I have no idea.” Stiles lies through his teeth.

        “What about Scott?” John asks.

        “N- What do you mean what about him?” Stiles asks.

        “Did he see anything?”

        “What’re you- Is he not here?” Stiles asks, breathing a bit heavier.

        “What are you talking about. I-I’ve been calling him on his cell phone, I’ve gotten no response.” John says. Bucket of ice. Jackson is looking over at Stiles, and he shrugs while mouthing _I don’t know_ at the question Stiles manages to ask with just his eyes. The blonde clenches his jaw, turning back to Lydia as Stiles lowers his head a bit. Stiles is still sweating, but he isn’t sure if it’s only from running for fifteen minutes straight anymore.

        “And you’re not gonna get one. He lost his phone a while ago, didn’t I complain about him making me help look for it?” Stiles questions, because he just nearly let his dad know that he knows _something_ about what’s going on. John puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, a lot more Dad than Sheriff at the moment, and he leads Stiles back into the main hallway.

        “Listen, just- just go wait with your friends, alright?”

        “Tell me, look, you know it probably has something to do with Derek.” Why does Stiles do this constantly. He didn’t even think about what he was gonna say. That just escaped, and now his dad is stopping them.

        “I thought you two said you barely knew him.” John says, and Stiles runs a shaky hand through his hair.

        “Alright, we might know him a little better than that. Scott and I were hanging around with him until the possible murder suspect thing went down, okay? I mean- I might’ve called him a friend, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do the same to me, so we weren’t exactly _that_ close.” Stiles mutters, tapping his leg with a few fingers nervously. Stiles’ dad grabs him by the back of the neck, dragging him along.

        “You _do_ realize that I’m elected this job, right?” He hisses.

        “And if I help you figure this out you’ll be reelected, am I right?” John pauses. “Dad, come on. Derek might be a murder suspect, but I still care about him and I wanna help find him.” John pauses again.

        “You know what, that girl in there has nothing to do with the six year old arson case.” John says officially.

        “When did you decide it was definitely arson?” Stiles questions, and John’s eyes snap to his son.

        “We got a key witness and, no, I’m not telling you who it is.” _I’ll just find out when you get drunk again anyway_. “Yeah, yeah. We know it’s arson. And it was probably organized by a young woman.”

        “What young woman?” Stiles asks.

        “If I knew then she would be in jail.” John says.

        “Was she young then or now?” Stiles question.

        “Wha- She’s probably in her late twenties.” John’s phone rings. “Damn, I gotta take this call.”

        “Wh- You don’t know her name?” Stiles nearly shouts.

        “No I don’t know her- What is this, twenty questions? All I know is she had a very distinctive, what do you call it? A pendant.” John says.

        “What the hell is a pendent?!”

        “Stiles do you even go to school?! It’s a pendent, a pendent! A necklace! Now, can I answer the phone?” _Oops that’s still ringing_.

        “Yes.”

        “Thank you.” John picks up. “Stilinski.” Stiles feels anger wash through him as he rubs at his head angrily, as he can’t run his hands through non existant hair. He starts walking in the opposite direction of his dad when Laura appears in front of him, giving him an unimpressed look. _Oh my God I’m a fucking idiot_.

        “Oh.” Stiles says dumbly before he rushes down the hallway. Jackson catches up with him quickly, still in what he wore to the Formal.

        “Hey, where are you going?” He questions.

        “To find Scott.” Stiles answers curtly.

        “You don’t have a car.” Jackson points out.

        “I’m aware of that, thank you.”

        “Hey, I’ll drive. C’mon-” Jackson places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and the dark haired teen shakes it off as he turns.

        “Look, just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn’t make it okay, alright? Half of this is still your fault.” Stiles snaps, but Jackson doesn’t really look deterred. If anything, he looks more determined. "I- Sorry. I'm freaking the fuck out. I shouldn't be taking it out on you." Stiles mutters.

        “Look, I have a car, and you don’t. Do you want my help or not?” Stiles pauses.

        “Alright, did you bring the porsche?” He asks.

        “Yeah.” Jackson pulls the keys out of his pocket.

        “Good, I’ll drive.” Stiles says, snatching the keys out of Jackson’s hand as he starts walking away. He stops as soon as Chris Argent steps in front of him, instincts screaming at him to grab Jackson and run in the opposite direction of the hunter and his lackeys.

        “Boys.” Chris greets. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Scott McCall is.” Stiles’ mind is already racing along with his heart.

        "Scott McCall? Um, haven’t seen him since the dance.” Stiles says easily, and Jackson glances over at him, clearly freaked out. “Jackson, you?” Chris glances at the blond.

        “Um, I- Uh,” Stiles lets out a quiet groan with his annoyed sigh.

        “You’d think you’d be better at this.” He mutters before he’s grabbed by the shoulders and dragged into an empty room. Him and Jackson are thrown against two stretchers, and Chris locks the door.

        “Let’s try this again.” Stiles spins around, Jackson doing the same. “Where is Scott McCall?” Stiles cusses, standing in front of Jackson as if he could (or should even think about) protecting the blond. Chris grabs him with both hands by the front of his shirt, spinning and slamming him against the door. “Let me ask you a question, Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?”

        “No.” Stiles answers, anger flaring up inside of him. He shakes his head slightly at Laura. “But I could put it on my to-do list if you just let me go.” The teen snarks.

        “Well I have, and the only thing I can compare it to is seeing my friend turn on the full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?’

        “Not really, no offense to your storytelling skills.” If Chris doesn’t kill him, Stiles is sure Laura might.

        “He tried to kill me. And I was forced to put a bullet- in his head.” Chris smacks Stiles’ forehead. “The whole while he laid there, dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me. Still trying to _kill_ me. Like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. _Can you imagine that_?” Stiles shakes his head.

        “No, but it does sound like you should be a bit more selective whe-” Chris slams his hand next to Stiles’ head dangerously.

        “ _Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon_?” Chris snaps, and Stiles is breathing heavily again. “Did you have to lock him up?!”

        “Yeah, I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?” Stiles snaps, his breathing getting even heavier with anger. Chris leans back a bit, a finger coming up to point at him before Chris lets out a single breathy laugh, wiping at his nose.

        “I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but, we never did that.” _Chris has absolutely no idea. Holy shit._

        “Oh, right. Derek said you guys have a code. I guess nobody ever breaks it.” Chris isn’t looking at Stiles, but the hand on the teen’s shoulder tightens.

        “Never.”

        “What if someone does?” Chris pauses, and Stiles can see that Chris doesn’t want to believe something may have happened. But Stiles can also see doubt in his eyes as they flicker back to him.

        “Someone like who?”

        “Your sister.” Chris glares a bit, but Stiles can see the doubt he’s trying to hide. Not only is it swimming to the surface of his eyes, but he’s finally actually thinking about it. “C’mon, Chris. She chased after Scott and I with a loaded gun. And you can’t tell me she hasn’t been dropping hints. And while _you_ may follow a code, I don’t even think she has a moral one. There’s no way in _hell_ that _werewolves_ were unable to escape a house without some sort of interference. They could’ve busted through _walls_ , yet only one escaped the fire with half his face burned like he’s a damned _batman villain_.”

        “No. No, not even Kate could do that.” Stiles’ eyes spark as he hears the weak point.

        “Not even Kate? So she’s done some shady shit. Tell me, do you think it’d be possible for her to put something around a room that wouldn’t allow wolves to escape? Herd them into that room? Set the house on fire to end the biggest _possible_ enemy? From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t put it past her.” Chris lets go of Stiles like he burned him.

        “Mountain ash.”

        “What?”

        “Werewolves can’t cross over a circle of mountain ash.”

        “And you guys probably have a lot of that. So much you wouldn’t notice some being taken to be put around a basement floor?” Stiles suggests, and Chris clenches his jaw. “You wouldn’t be suspicious if you didn’t have absolute reason. You know I’m telling you the truth, and Derek has been missing for almost the last week. I think Scott’s found him, but where do you think they are?”

        “The Hale house.” Chris answers.

        “And where do you think Kate is?” Chris is silent for a few moments.

        “Going after Derek.” Stiles leans forward a bit, going in for the fatal blow.

        “Chris, where do you think your daughter is?”

 

***

 

        “No, no. We’re gonna make it to Deaton’s in time.” Stiles mutters, and he’s shocked as he pulls up to find the vet already waiting for the two humans. He hands them two bottles of something red.

        “I had a feeling.” Deaton explains as Stiles screeches to a halt in front of him. Stiles nods, handing the bottles to Jackson. He thanks the vet before speeding off, breaking every traffic rule known to man as he tries to get to the Hale house.

        “We’re- We’re gonna make it, right?” Jackson stutters, and Stiles clenches his jaw and nods.

        “We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna get there in time to save everybody, and- and Scott’s gonna be okay and Allison’s gonna be okay. Derek is gonna be okay.” Stiles whispers the last part, and by the way Jackson doesn’t react he knows that the blond didn’t hear him. Stiles speeds up anyway, until the world even in front of him is blurring and he’s just barely making the needed turns.

        “Where the fuck did you learn how to drive like this?” Jackson questions, and Stiles glances at him for half a second.

        “None of your business.” Stiles mutters, and Jackson rolls his eyes. Stiles takes another turn, slowing down as trees fly past on him on either side and he needs to start dodging trees and bushes.

        “Be careful with my car.” Jackson snaps.

        “Did you buy it?” Jackson is silent for a few moments.

        “...No.”

        “Then shut up.” Stiles grumbles, taking another turn. He sees the house grow in the distance, along with the giant alpha werewolf. Stiles parks, honking the horn as he gets out of the car. He rushes towards the alpha, chucking the bottle. Which the alpha catches, of course. “Allison!” Stiles shouts, and Scott tosses the hunteress her bow. Allison shoots the bottle and it bursts into flames, enveloping the alpha in orange and yellow. Stiles looks at Jackson, and the blond looks back at him before turning and throwing his bottle. The alpha is hit with more flames, and it stumbles slightly.

        The alpha form disappears after that, shrinking back down to a very human looking Peter. He looks down at his body, choking on something that’s likely blood or burned flesh. Stiles winces slightly at the sight, and he looks at Allison as the werewolf falls over. He then glances at Scott and then to Jackson once his best friend and his girlfriend have a moment. But then Derek walks out of the house and stalks over to Peter, kneeling above him dangerously.

        “Wait!” Stiles shouts, stumbling over. “You said the cure comes from the one who bit you.” Scott is breathing heavily. “Derek, if you do this, I’m dead. Her father, her family, _what am I supposed to do_?” Derek doesn’t respond, and Stiles glances at Jackson to see his reaction.

        “You’ve… Already… Decided…” Peter forces out, and his wide eyes go red. “ _I can smell it on you_.” Derek clenches his jaw, raising a clawed hand.

        “Wait! No-no, _don’t_!” Scott shouts, but Derek’s claws are already slices through Peter’s throat. Blood splatters, and Derek stands slowly, turning at the same rate as his eyes go blood red.

        “ _I’m the alpha now_.” He rumbles, something powerful changing the way his voice sounds. Scott is beyond pissed, Jackson looks like he’s about to piss himself, and the Argents are pissed off. Stiles? Stiles is annoyed but mostly embarrassed as blood rushes south because _holy fuck that tone is hot. Wait no. Bad Stiles. Get your shit together. You need to leave before Derek smells your boner. Werewolves can do that_.

        Stiles climbs back into Jackson’s car quickly, and Jackson follows, not asking the other teen why he’s in such a hurry to get away from Derek. “I’m going back to the hospital. You’re going home. If you speak of this to anybody, I’m gonna make you into a pair of crocs. I don’t care if you’re stronger than me, I’ll find a way.” Stiles threatens, and Jackson just nods shakily.

 

***

 

        Stiles pauses before getting out of the porsche, tapping his hands on the wheel because he’s probably gonna regret this as Jackson is probably just gonna laugh at him. “Okay, look. I know that you hate me and all that but- uh- this was probably a pretty traumatic experience for you. It may have possibly scarred me. But- Uh-  If you ever need to, ya’ know, talk to somebody- or something, uh… You can, um, talk to me?” It sounds like a question, and Stiles grabs his phone quickly. “Yeahthat’sallbye.” He says in one breath before jumping out of the car and running into the building.

        Scott is already waiting for Stiles in the hallway, and they make it into Lydia’s room stealthily until they have to close the door. Each hinge can use like three buckets of oil. Stiles winces the entire time he closes the door, but he locks it quickly. He closes the blinds to the room quickly, and Scott looks at Lydia’s wound. “It’s completely healed?” Stiles asks nervously, and Scott pauses.

        “No, not at all.” Stiles looks at Scott and then down at the deep injury that should probably have stitches. “I don’t get it, the doctor said she should be completely fine.” Scott sounds as confused as Stiles is. “But, the bites not healing like it did with me. Which means she’s not a werewolf.” Stiles pauses.

        “Then what the hell is she?” Stiles asks, because Lydia _obviously_ isn’t dead. Laura is somewhere nearby. Stiles can feel it. And then he realizes with a start that he can feel energy buzzing around him. “Uh, Scott. You know that thing I said we had to wait to show you until next Thursday?”

        “Yeah?”  
  
        “That life or death situation we were just in may have just juiced me up to let me do the ritual now. We need to go to my house. Like, yesterday.”


	8. Season Two, Episode Two (AKA Maybe the Ghost Thing Will Finally Go Somewhere)

Hey look this might finally start focusing on Stiles and his gayness and develop a plot of it’s own who knew that was gonna happen

 

***

 

        Stiles wanders around his room, collecting candles and different ingredients. He sprinkles ground up bay leaves, ginger, acorns, and ashes from a burned raven feather around the room. “What was your childhood lullaby?” He asks Laura, and the woman raises a brow before thinking about it a few seconds.

        “Carry On Wayward Son.” Laura answers, and Stiles holds up a hand as Scott starts to answer.

        “No not you.”

        “What do you mean not me?” Scott questions.

        “I mean I’m not asking you.”

        “Nobody else is here!” Scott exclaims.

        "No, somebody is here, you just can’t see her. She’s dead. You’re sure you’re okay with this? I could just find somebody to help pass and get them to let Scott see. You don’t have to be stuck with me if you don’t want to be.” Stiles says, tossing some of the combination of ingredients onto Scott and then himself and Laura. It’s just for protection, so Laura can still back out if she wants to.

        “I’m stuck with you anyways, may as well.” Laura is clearly joking. “Somebody’s gotta watch your ass.” Stiles scowls playfully.

        “Jerk.”

        “Bitch.” Stiles turns slightly, grinning a bit crazily.

        “No fucking way.” Laura just grins, moving to the board. “Scott, ass on the ground, hand hovering above the planchette. Do _not_ touch it.” Stiles orders, and Laura sits down in front of the board.

        “We’re just dicking around with a Ouija board? Dude.” Scott sounds totally unimpressed, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

        “Yeah, Scott. I had to wait until a full moon or a life or death situation to get juiced up enough to use a _ouija board_. Dumbass.” Stiles cuffs the back of Scott’s head.

        “Then what _are_ you doing?”

        “Binding a spirit to me so she’s powerful enough to let herself be seen. And she’ll be able to lend me her… Abilities.” Stiles mutters, trailing off a bit at first as he sets fire to a white feather that turns pink as you tilt it. An almost sickly sweet smell fills the room and something akin to lighting comes out of nowhere and hits the planchette. “Okay, hover your hand over the planchette.” Stiles says, and Scott does so quickly. “Laura, put a hand on the planchette on the count of three. Scott, this is gonna drain you for a good like eight seconds.” Stiles says, and Scott pales a bit as he nods his go ahead.

        “Ready?” Laura asks, and Stiles nods as he puts on a lullaby version of ‘Carry On Wayward Son’.

        “One, two, three.” Stiles places his hand on the planchette, and Laura does the same at the same time. Electricity visibly crackles across not only Stiles but Laura, and the human clenches his jaw as pain makes itself known as an agonizing ache in his bones. Scott looks like he wants to say something, but he wisely stays quiet and just watches with wide eyes. He pales suddenly, swaying a bit, but he doesn’t move his hand. Stiles lets out a shuddery breath, and Laura lets out a keening noise before both of their eyes go entirely black, freaking Scott out horribly. Stiles glances at Scott with inky eyes before they focus on Laura’s, and then everything goes black.

 

***

 

        Stiles gasps as he wakes up, an unbearable amount of scents assaulting him. He can hear the neighbors down the street going at it. “What the hell was _that_?!” Scott shouts as soon as he sees Stiles is awake.

        “I think that Laura and I may have just gone DBZ on your ass.” Stiles mutters, rubbing at his face. “Are you okay? You got really pale really fast.” Stiles says, checking Scott over. The other teen rolls his eyes, shoving Stiles’ hands away from his face as he tilts his head to see if his neck if messed up at all.

        “I’m fine, mom.” Stiles rolls his eyes at the sass. “But you smell like a _wolf_. And a _Hale_. Why the everloving _fuck_ do you smell like a Hale?” Scott questions, and Stiles rubs the back of his neck.

        “Laura, Scott. A werewolf named Laura. I don’t think that there’s another werewolf named Laura that isn’t Hale. I tried to tell you before I can talk to ghosts and stuff but you didn’t believe me.” Stiles says, and Scott looks a bit sheepish.

        “To be fair, it still seems pretty crazy to me.” Scott says, and Stiles cuffs him on the back of the head again.

        “I’m getting a headache from all these scents. Laura, you can leave my head now. Or head to the back. You could probably help me more if you weren’t in my head though.” Stiles says, and he sways as the world spins around him for a second. “Wow, yeah. Let’s try to work on that.” Stiles mutters, pressing two fingers to his temples and rubbing like that’ll get rid of the sudden headache.

        “You okay?” The woman asks, and Scott glances at her with wide eyes.

        “Yeah, Laura, this is Scott. Scott, Laura. Scott, Tell me about Gerard and what happened last night.”

 

***

 

        “Dad? Dad?!” Stiles is clutching his phone to his chest, and he runs down the stairs quickly, shaking in rage. “Dad!”

        “Stiles?” John looks up as Stiles enters the kitchen with him.

        “Dad, it’s- I have a new friend, alright? I have a new friend and he just got into a fight with his dad and he ran off and he’s with a friend now and-and-and- Dad his dad threw a glass pitcher at him. He- He almost _blinded him_.” Stiles is shaking, and John’s eyes are wide as he stares at Stiles.

        “His dad _what_?’

        “His dad threw a glass pitcher at him, and he said he’s been abusing him for years, but he just ran and his dad blamed his injuries on him and- and-”

        “Stiles?”

        “ _He_ _locked him in a freezer in the basement_.” Stiles forces out, shaking in rage as he’s overcome with the need to go and find Isaac.

        “He-” John is almost as furious as Stiles is. “Isaac- Oh, God. The last time I saw him he had a black eye.” John’s phone rings. “Stilinski.” He answers, and then he stiffens. “Where?” It’s silent for a few moments. “Alright, I’m on my way. Isaac is with somebody, right?”

        “I- Yeah, he was on the phone with me almost the entire time he was there. He ditched his bike in some alley to buy him some time because he figured his dad would think he was hiding nearby. He was just running to a friend. I only hung up when he reached him…. Why?” John looks half relieved, half sickened.

        “Because we just found Mr.Lahey. Dead.” John says, and Stiles pales.

        “Oh, God. What about Isaac? Where is he gonna live?” John grabs his sheriff’s jacket and his badge, putting on his holster and putting his gun in place after making sure the safety is on. He hesitates before he leaves.

        “If you’re close enough to the kid and… Nobody is able to house him, he can stay with us.” John leaves, and Stiles pulls out his phone again to make sure Isaac is okay.

 

***

 

        “I don’t think you need to chain me up tonight.”

        “Is that so?” Stiles raises a brow at Scott.

        “I’m serious, it’s not like the last full moon. I-I don’t feel the same.”

        “Oh, does that include the urge to maim and kill people? Like me?” Stiles points at himself, and Scott rolls his eyes, not understanding that Stiles was actually in serious danger his last full moon.

        “I swear I don’t have the urge to maim or kill you.” Scott sighs.

        “You see, you say that now, but then the full moon comes up and then the _fangs_ and the _claws_ , and there’s a lot of howling and screaming and running everywhere, okay? And it’s very stressful, so yes, I’m still locking you up.” Stiles barely pauses between sentences because you  need to talk fast while talking to Scott or you won’t be able to say everything without the other interrupting you.

        “Okay, fine, but I seriously think I have more control now. Especially since things are good with Allison.” Oh, _Allison_. Of course, _Allison_. With Scott now everything is _Allison this_ or _Allison_ _that_ and Stiles has actually made new friends because of how often Scott has ditched him during the summer and in the last few weeks because of _Allison_.

        “Okay, I’m aware of how good things are with Allison.”

        “They’re _really_ good.”

        “I- Thank you, I know.”

        “They’re, like, _really_ good.” Scott whispers, and Stiles lets out a disgusted sound.

        “Alright with how good everything is with Allison before I get the urge to kill and maim myself.” Stiles half-whines in annoyance.

        “Alright, did you get something better than handcuffs this time?” Scott asks, and Stiles nods. His hand shoots out as silver flashes, and he furrows his brows at his own hand when he realizes he just caught the chains before they even fell out. He feels a slight dizzy spell, and then everything makes more sense.

        “Thanks Laura.” Stiles mutters, and Scott raises an eyebrow. “Shut up, you already know that I’m a grade A klutz.” Scott’s eyes suddenly flash yellow, and Stiles furrows his brows again as he sees his best friend looking around.

        “You okay?” Scott doesn’t look like he even heard Stiles. “Scott?”

        “There’s another. In here. Right now.”

        “Another what?”

        “Another werewolf.” Stiles clarifies, and Stiles narrows his eyes, looking around to see if anybody seemed to be paying attention to their conversation suddenly.

        “Ah, fuck. As long as they aren’t like Peter and they aren’t gonna kill anybody, I couldn’t really care less right now. I’ll be right back, tell the Coach for me.”

        “Where are you going?”

        “I gotta meet with Allison and Lydia. For helping them with homework and stuff.” Stiles says, before he’s rushing off. He makes it to the front doors, and everybody stops and stares at Allison and Lydia walk in. One girl with a serial killer aunt, and one just finished running around naked in the woods for a couple days.

        “Stiles.” Allison greets.

        “Hey, girls. Don’t you all have classes or boyfriends/girlfriends to get to?” Stiles half-shouts at the people staring, and they start moving along quickly.

        “I’m gonna need my hoodie back, by the way.” Stiles says to Lydia, because he gets the feeling the last thing she wants to hear is ‘are you okay?’.

        “I don’t know, Stiles. It has thumb holes.”

        “Which is why it’s my favorite. Who’s house are we meeting up at?” Stiles asks, and Lydia raises her hand.

        “Mine. Do you have the homework?”

        “What? Oh, yeah. Here.” Stiles hands the two the homework from the last two days. “I’ll need that back by the end of practice. Meet me in the library or put it in my locker. See you two later.” Stiles runs back to the locker room and then out to the field quickly.

        “Stiles.” Scott greets, and Stiles waves.

        “So, about the new werewolf. How did you know?”

        “You had the enhanced senses for a bit. I’m not sure if you noticed, but it’s like a scent. But there were too many people in the locker room for me to figure out who it was.” Scott says, and Stiles nods slowly.

        “Okay… What if you could get them one on one? Could you tell then?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Okay, I think I got an idea.” Stiles runs off to get the goalie gear. He barely manages to stop before he runs into Scott as he races back. “I told coach I was switching with Danny for the day, and that you’re switching with Greenberg.”

        “But I hate playing defense.” Scott complains.

        “You remember how I said I have a plan? This is the plan.” Stiles says as he puts on the goalie gear.

        “Oh…. What’s the plan?” Stiles pauses.

        “I honestly don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” Stiles states, and Coach Finstock blows his whistle.

        “Let’s go! Line it up! Faster… Make daddy proud.” Stiles makes a face at the wording, and Scott is charging at the first guy before the ball even lands in his net. He takes down three guys, nearly breaking limbs, before Coach Finstock grabs Stiles by the helmet. “Stilinski! What the hell is wrong with your friend?”

        “Uh… He’s socially awkward, he’s failing two classes, and, if you look close enough, his jawline is uneven.” Coach narrows his eyes, leaning back a bit to look closer at Scott’s face. He lets go of Stiles’ helmet.

        “That’s interesting.” Stiles notices that Isaac is breathing heavily, and when he listens closely he can hear a bit of growling with each breath. Scott charges, and when he looks up his eyes are yellow. And apparently, so are Isaac’s. Even though Stiles knows that Isaac is probably fine, he still runs over.

        “Hey, are you okay?” He asks, getting onto a knee to see Isaac’s face. The other turns his head to the police, his eyes wide, before he turns back to Stiles. The boy grunts as he’s suddenly grabbed and pulled into a hug.

        “Nonono I didn’t do it. It- It wasn’t me they can’t- they can’t-”

        “Heyheyhey.” Stiles wraps an arm awkwardly around Isaac, but the werewolf doesn’t seem to sense the uncertainty running off of the human in waves. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? They’re just gonna take you in for questioning. If they decide to keep you overnight, I’ll bust you out, alright?” Stiles is being completely honest, and Isaac seems to realize that as he looks up at the human with wide eyes before nodding. He lets the Sheriff guide him away. Stiles lets out a shaky breath.

        “What the hell was that?” Scott questions, eyes a bit wide, and Stiles stares back at him with equal amounts of confusion.

        “I have no idea.”

 

***

 

        Of course, Harrison is an asshole who hates Stiles the most out of any student, so Stiles is at the school until it’s dark out. Which means he has to cancel hanging out with Allison and Lydia. Which Lydia is going to force him to go on a shopping trip because of. Damn Harrison to the deepest parts of Hell. Stiles’ feet haven’t even recovered from the last trip yet. Stiles scowls as he sees all the missed calls from Allison.

        “Hey, sorry. Harrison literally just let me out of detention. Literally. And he had my phone the _whole_ freaking time.” So Stiles is a bit pissy right now, sue him.

        “Well, we need to do something. Like, right now.” Aaaand this sounds serious. Why does Harrison have to be such a hardass? “They were asking me all these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter and- They sent this guy out.”

        “Wait, what guy?” Stiles asks, turning around slightly.

        “He was dressed as a Sheriff’s deputy.” Bucket of ice water, there you are.

        “They’re sending him to get Isaac.” Stiles whispers, his voice shaking a bit.

        “He was also carrying this box with something on it. Like, um, like a carving or something I-” Allison’s voice is a bit shaky.

        “What was it?”

        “Hold on- Hold on. It’s in one of these… Books.  I’m taking a picture.” Stiles runs a shaky hand over his head. “Did you get it?”

        “Yeah. Wolfsbane.”

        “What does that mean?”

        “It means they’re gonna kill him.” Stiles says. He starts panicking, and he bites the inside of his cheek. “I-I-I… I need to do something. Anything. I can’t- I can’t just let Isaac get killed.” Stiles’ brain is in overdrive. “Okay- Okay. You need to find this guy, alright. You need to pop his tires. Can you do that?”

        “I- Yeah. I’m on my way over.” Allison’s voice has changed a bit.

        “Mom! Dad! I’m going to Stiles’ to study, alright? I think I’m gonna crash there.” Allison shouts, and there are some disagreeing noises. “He’s gay.” No more noises. Stiles makes a face.

        “Thanks for outing me to your entire family, asshole. You probably already know where the spare is. Just wait in my room until I get there or something.” Stiles gets into the Jeep, heading to the station. Allison calls him after seven nerve wracking minutes.

        “Hey, did you slow him down?” He asks.

        “ _You could say that_.”

        “Alright, well, uh, I’m headed to the station right now.”

        “ _Where’s Scott_?” Stiles almost rolls his eyes. She’s just as bad as Scott when it comes to obsessing over her significant other.

        “At Isaac's.”

        “ _Does he have a plan?_ ” Allison asks.

        “Yeah, but not a very good one. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to come up with anything better.” Stiles licks his lips nervously, glancing in his rearview mirror.

        “ _Alright, I’m going over to Isaac’s_.” Allison says. Stiles hangs up after saying goodbye, putting his phone on the passenger’s seat. He leans forward a bit, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks at the full moon. Stiles swerves a bit when Derek appears out of nowhere, and the teen rubs the back of his neck.

        “Holy shit. Can you maybe _not_ do that?” Stiles questions as Derek climbs into the passenger seat. Stiles isn’t graced with a response, so the teen just bites the inside of his cheek and starts driving again. He bites harder when he feels more than sees Derek lean closer to him, sniffing the air slightly. Stiles just stiffens slightly and speeds up. Neither of the two speak to the other on the way to the station, but Stiles can feel Derek’s eyes on him and it causes his face and neck to feel oddly hot. No way in hell is he blushing. Nope.

 

***

 

        “Okay, the keys to open every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office. The problem is getting past the front desk.” Stiles nods towards the woman that the two can see through the windows.

        “I’ll distract her.” Derek says, starting to get out of the car. Stiles grabs his arm.

        “Woahwoahwoah! You? You’re not going in there!” Worry is shooting through Stiles, so he doesn’t notice until Derek looks down at his hand and then back at the teen’s face _twice_ that he’s still holding Derek’s arm. “I-I-I’m taking my hand off.” He moves it quickly, his face tinted pink.

        “I was exonerated.” Derek says, and Stiles bites the inside of his cheek.

        “You’re still a person of interest.” Stiles points out.

        “An innocent person.”

        “Yo- Yeah, right!” _No way in hell a man that looks like you is innocent in even it’s loosest definition._ Stiles bites his tongue at the look Derek is giving him, looking away. “Okay, fine. What’s your plan?” Derek’s brows furrow slightly.

        “ _To distract her_.” Stiles gets what the man is saying, but acts like he doesn’t because he’s a little shit who kinda sorta maybe wants a taste of Derek Hale’s flirting.

        “By what? Punching her in the face? Unnmph.” Stiles makes a face with the sound effect.

        “By talking to her.”

        “Okay, alright. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?” Derek takes a deep breath as he looks away, turning back to Stiles with an unimpressed look. Stiles doesn’t like the bitter feeling that shoots through him at the silence, so he forces it to the back of his mind like he does everything else.

        “Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?” Derek looks like he’s actually thinking about it.

        “I’m thinking about punching you in the face.” Annnd they’re back to insulting and threatening each other. Great. Stiles opens his mouth to shoot back a comeback, but a feeling of anger that doesn’t really belong shoots through him so he just climbs out of the car before Derek can smell it or something. The two walk into the station, Stiles hanging back as Derek walks up to the front desk.

        “Good evening, how can I help-” The woman loses her words as she sees Derek’s smile. _Same, Mariah. Same_. “-you?”

        “Hey.” Derek grins.

        “Um, hi.” The woman is totally focused on Derek.

        “Um, I had a question. Uh, sorry I’m a little- A little thrown. I really wasn’t expecting someone...”

        “Like, me?”

        “Well, I was gonna say somebody so incredibly beautiful, but I guess that’d be the same thing.” Stiles all but runs out of the room so Derek doesn’t catch on to his jealously. In all honesty, Stiles has no reason to be jealous of the woman Derek’s flirting with. It’s not like him and the alpha are in a relationship. It’s not like Derek can even _tolerate_ Stiles, much like find him _attractive_ in _any_ way shape or form. _Hurt_ actually flashes through Stiles at that realization, which throws the teen a bit.

        Stiles gets to his dad’s office quickly, but the keys are already gone. “No, no nono.” Stiles half-panics, and leaves the office quickly to find the hunter. He actually almost runs into somebody. “Woah. Just- Just lookin’- um..” Stiles trails off when he notices the arrow sticking out of the man’s thigh. “Oh, shit.” Stiles cusses, turning to run. He’s grabbed quickly, a hand going over his mouth and the needle the man held is against his throat threateningly. The hunter starts dragging Stiles backwards, so the teen panics and hits the fire alarm.

        Stiles lets out a muffled panicked scream, and he’s dropped once they reach the cell Isaac was getting held in. Naturally, the werewolf has already busted out and broke the door entirely. Stiles jumps back as the hunter is suddenly ran into by Isaac, slammed into one wall and then the other. Isaac breaks the man’s arm, and then hits him hard in the head. Stiles can’t tell if the hunter is dead or not.

        The teen kicks the syringe of wolfsbane tainted _something_ out into the hallway, and he scrambles back to the far wall when Isaac spins to stare at _him_. There’s the crack of the syringe being broken, and Derek is suddenly in front of Stiles, _roaring_ at Isaac. The beta backs off, falling and huddling against the other wall. Stiles pushes himself into his wall as Derek slowly turns a bit to look at him. “How- How’d you do that?” Stiles asks.

        “I’m the alpha.” Derek states simply, and Isaac looks back at Stiles, looking absolutely _terrified_. He’s sweating and he has tears in his eyes, and something in Stiles breaks a bit at the sight.

        “Isaac it’s- it’s okay. I- I’m fine.” Stiles stumbles over his words, feeling a bit embarrassed as Derek raises a brow at him. Apparently, Isaac has like no shame when it comes to needing affection while in front of his alpha. He’s across the room and shoving himself into Stiles’ arms within seconds. Stiles tenses a bit, but his hand moved automatically to run through Isaac’s hair and his other arm is wrapped around the other’s shoulders.

        “I- My dad’s gonna be here soon. You guys should go so you don’t get into trouble.” Stiles says, letting go of Isaac. But the other teen doesn’t let go of _him_.

        “But you’ll be the one in trouble.”

        “Taking the blame and occasional research. That’s all I’m good for.” Stiles says it in a joking matter, but by the way the two wolves tense up he put a little too much truth into that statement. “So, uh, yeah. I’ll make up a story or- or something and I’ll just-” Isaac tightens his hold, letting out a growl.

        “We’re taking him with. Grab him and lets go.” Derek orders, and Stiles yelps as he’s thrown over Isaac’s shoulder like he weighs nothing. The two wolves jump to the next roof, and Stiles shifts around until he isn’t hurt with each stride Isaac takes because of the teen’s boney shoulder. He gives up on struggling after about thirteen minutes, and then he just crosses his arms as he’s unable to get totally comfortable. Of course, Derek decides that _now_ is a good time for an evening jog. Stiles is about to protest that Isaac running with him on his shoulder will probably break a few of his oh so fragile ribs.

        Stiles absolutely does _not_ blush as Derek grabs him and starts carrying him bridal style. Also, he totally doesn’t fall asleep after a few minutes of surprisingly gentle rocking as Derek’s arms move as he runs. Totally never happens. The world just decided to turn off the lights or something.

 

***

  
        Stiles dreams of stubble burn, red eyes, and growls that shouldn’t turn him on nearly as much as they actually do.


	9. Season Two, Episodes Three and Four (AKA 'Green Eyed Adonis')

        Stiles raises a brow as Lydia sits down next to him even though he’s sitting with the kinda misfits. Said misfits being himself, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. To be perfectly honest, Isaac is definitely able to be in the popular crowd. In fact, Stiles is certain he was until one of the jocks shoved him against a locker. Isaac almost broke the kid’s jaw. “Lydia, what’s up?” He asks, snagging some of her food. The strawberry blonde raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything against the theft.

        “I felt like sitting with a different friend, as the jocks are being pricks and trying to get theirs in me.” Lydia says, and Stiles chokes on his food a bit. Boyd seems to decide at that moment that he likes Lydia enough to let her stay. He shows the newfound camaraderie by snagging a grape from Lydia’s fruit salad. The strawberry blonde smiles at Boyd, and it’s an actual smile, not her fake flirtatious one. Erica relaxes a bit.

        “So you come to little ol’ Stiles for some company?” Stiles jokes, and Lydia swats at Isaac’s hand when the wolf tries to take some of her food too. “You all have your own food you heathens.” Stiles scolds playfully, and everybody rolls their eyes.

 

***

 

        “Erica!” Stiles shouts, and he’s across the gym quickly. He’d noticed that she hadn’t entered the hallway, so he’d gone back to the gym. And now he stares as Erica starts falling. He throws out a hand to Laura, who grasps his and melds into Stiles as the teen runs forward. Stiles catches Erica easily, bending his knees as she lands so the fall doesn’t hurt her too badly. “Erica? Oh, god. You’re having a seizure. Somebody get the school nurse! Now!”

 

***

 

        Stiles hadn’t realized he fell asleep in one of the hospital chairs until he wakes up. But then he sees that Erica’s room is empty and he bolts upright, nearly falling out of his chair. Of course, the oh so familiar and not at all welcomed feeling of ice water is back as Stiles scrambles to his feet and down the hall, following Erica’s scent. Laura, apparently, hasn’t left Stiles’ mind or body yet. Stiles damn near has a panic attack, because when he walks into the fucking _morgue_ of all places Erica is staring down at a bite. A fresh bite. And then Stiles is feeling light headed and the world spins and Stiles would blame it on Laura but _what the hell she’s on the other side of the room_. Erica’s head snaps up. Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to explain, but Stiles is already stumbling out of the room.

        The teen is so focused on running that he doesn’t even notice that somebody had put a coat on him. A leather coat. That he’ll later recognize not only because of how it looks but because it smells like a certain sex-god born part wolf.

 

***  
  


        Stiles scowls, letting out a disgusted noise as clear goo covers his hand. “Ugh, nice. Real sanitary.” Stiles grumbles, “Quality establishment you’re running here!” Stiles wipes his hand on his hoodie, pulling out his phone to complain to Scott about the shithead working on his car. He’s able to type about three words before his fingertips go numb. And then his entire hands. And as his hands shake, his arms go numb and then start to shake. It starts to spread across Stiles’ body, when he sees a clawed hand.

        “No… Hey! Hey!” Stiles’ legs give out, and he starts dragging himself to the blonde guy. A cord is cut, and the thing holding the Jeep up starts to slowly sink down towards the blonde.

        “Help! Help me! Help me!” The guy shouts, crying as Stiles tries to dial 911. As Stiles hits the send button, something green and scaly with slitted yellow eyes appears in the doorway, screeching at Stiles before it leaves. Stiles starts to cry.

        “ _911 what’s your emergency?_ ”

        “I- A guy who was working on my car just got crushed. We’re- _I’m_ at Armor.” Stiles chokes out. It takes the police an hour, thirteen minutes, and twenty seven seconds to get to the shop. By then, Stiles has regained feeling and control of his arms, legs, and his torso. Basically everything below his head besides his fingertips.

        “Stiles?” John asks, freezing as he sees his son.

        “Dad.” Stiles’ voice is a bit croaky, and John’s eyes soften as he leads his son out to an ambulance.

        “What happened?”

        “I’m not sure. I walked in to see if the guy was done with my Jeep and found him crushed. That’s all.” Stiles lies straight to his dad’s face, and god _damn_ doesn’t that make him feel like shit.

        “What’s wrong with your hand?” John asks, noticing his son poking at his fingertips. Stiles shakes his hand a bit.

        “Nothing. I think I was in shock, and it fucked-”

        “ _Language_!”

        “-up the circulation in my hand. Can I go now?” Stiles asks.

        “Look, if there’s something you don’t think you can tell me…”

        “You think I’m lying?”

        “No!” Stiles feels like the air’s been kicked out of him. “But yes, you can go home. But not in your Jeep.”

        “What?!”

        “Sorry, kid. Evidence.” Stiles calls Scott, sighing.

        “At least make sure they wash it!”

 

***

 

        Scott arrives within half an hour. “Congratulations on getting here faster than it took the police to show up.” Stiles grumps as he gets into the car.

        “You okay?” At least Scott cares enough to ask.

        “No, not really. You’re right, though. It’s not like you. It’s- It looked reptilian, almost.” Stiles says. “But there was something about it…”

        “What do you mean?”

        “You know when you see your friend in a Halloween mask, and you know it’s them, but you can’t figure out who because you can only see their eyes?” Scott leans a bit closer.

        “Are you saying you know who it is?”

        “No.” Stiles hesitates. “But I think it knew me.” Stiles glances up at Scott, and the other teen nods a bit slowly.

        “Alright. We’ll get this figured out.”

 

***

 

        Stiles has been doing a damn good job of avoiding Derek’s pack. His old friends. Who’ve basically completely ditched him and moved into the popular crowd. It probably doesn’t help that Stiles is definitely doing his best to not to even be _seen_ by them. Apparently, the world wants to fuck him over, as Coach Finstock pairs him up with _all three betas_ for gym today. Stiles hangs back as they kick around a soccer ball, staying as far away as he can because damn, he may not be doing anything to make this situation better, but them just leaving him kinda stings. Badly.

        Okay, it doesn’t sting. It may or may not feel like a hole has been ripped into his chest. It’s bad enough that he’s losing Scott to Allison slowly, but all of his other friends he’s just lost to the main star of his wet dreams. Who just so happens to hate Stiles. So Stiles isn’t really in anybody’s pack, he’s just hanging around outside. It’s like being a random ass space rock in a room full of planets and comets and stars. Stiles ducks as the hair on the back of his neck stands on edge, but he’s a bit slow, so he gets hit in the side of the head by a goddam _soccer cleat_ anyway.

        Stiles’ hand flies up to the side of his head, pain shooting through him from where a fucking _cleat_ just hit him. Stiles glances down at his hand as he pulls it away and, hey, would you look at that. He’s somehow managed to start bleeding. A group of jocks are laughing somewhere nearby, and Stiles clenches his jaw, forcing back tears as Scott doesn’t even seem to notice as he’s too busy with his ‘rare "alone"’ time with Allison. Stiles puts a hand back on the spot where he’s bleeding quickly as Boyd, Erica, and Isaac’s eyes snap to the spot.

        “Uh, Coach?” Stiles backs up, turning to face his coach and act like he’s not trying to escape Derek’s pack.

        “Bilinski?” Finstock doesn’t look up from his clipboard.

        “Uh, I got a bit injured, can I run to the locker room and clean it up?” Stiles asks, and the Coach looks up.

        “Uh, yeah. You do that.” The coach half-orders, and Stiles is basically running to the locker room. The boy cusses, slamming the door shut as he moves over to a sink. His hands are a bit shaky, and he moves the one on his head away from his injury. Stiles hisses in pain, pulling his hair away from the injury to see it better.

        “Stiles?” The human hears Isaac, and he freezes up a bit. “Stiles, are you okay?”

        “Uh, I’m- I’m fine, Isaac.”

        “Your heartbeat just blipped.” Isaac informs the human, who winces and cusses a bit.

        “Okay, I might be bleeding a bit-”

        “Blip.”

        “-a lot. It doesn’t hurt all that badly-”

        “Another blip.”

        “God dammit. I’m gushing blood from an injury that hurts like a bitch. Is that what you want to hear?!” Stiles snaps, and he  can hear Isaac walking closer to him.

        “Not really, but it’s the truth, at least.” Isaac rounds the corner, and Stiles glances at him in the mirror. “Let me see it. I know a bit about fixing injuries.” Stiles winces a bit at the reminder of what Isaac’s dad used to do. The shorter teen doesn’t really get an option, as Isaac grabs him by the hair and tips his head to the side to see the injury better. “Alright, come over here.” Isaac says, and Stiles follows him and sits on a bench obediently when Isaac tells him to.

        “Fuck!” Stiles tries to move away as Isaac sprays his head with something that _stings_. Isaac, though, has an unbreakable grip on the back of Stiles’ head so the human isn’t actually able to retreat. His head starts going a bit numb, and Stiles tries (unsuccessfully) to break free of Isaac’s grip as he sees black running up his arm.

        “The spray cleans the injury without me actually having to touch it.” Isaac explains, and Stiles clenches his teeth, nodding in a ‘got it’ kind of way. Isaac disappears for a few moments, but he returns soon with a towel. He grabs the back of Stiles’ head again, and the human doesn’t bother trying to stop Isaac for a couple reasons. One, Isaac isn’t going to give a fuck about what Stiles wants at the moment. Two, and Stiles knows this is stupid, but the fact that Isaac is actually _here_ and helping Stiles causes hope to flair in the human. Hope that _maybe_ Isaac hasn’t completely abandoned him after all.

        Stiles jumps (as well as one can while being held in place by the head) as the locker room door slams open. “Is he okay?” Okay Stiles is actually kinda surprised that Boyd is here. “Erica and I dealt with them.”

        “You didn’t get in any trouble, did you?”

        “Only detention.” Boyd tells Stiles, barely glancing at his face before he moves forward to look at the injury.

        “He’ll be fine. There’s just a lot of blood because it’s a head injury. He might have scars, though. Healing time between a few days to a few weeks for them to disappear. Depends on if he scratches the scabs or not.” Isaac tells Boyd.

        “Oh, how I love being talked about like I’m not in the room.” Stiles mutters, and Boyd actually looks a bit amused. He looks a bit worried after a while, though.

        "Are you okay?” Isaac asks. “You’ve been… Avoiding us. Did we do something wrong?” Holy fuck he sounds like a kicked puppy.

        “I- You- Uh- N-No?” Stiles stumbles over his words. “It’s- Uh- Usually just what happens. When people I know get into the popular crowd, you know? No time for Stiles.” Stiles shrugs, trying to act uneffected. If he’s honest with himself, his friends leaving him is probably one of the main reasons his self esteem is shit. However, Stiles has become quite skilled in repressing shit like that and lying to himself, so he won’t be thinking about that any time soon. “But don’t just blame all of it on me. You’ve been avoiding me too.” Stiles accuses, and the two other teens wince a bit.

        “Derek’s kinda ordered us not to talk to you. Not exactly, but it’s kind of a ‘Isaac and Boyd, stay away from Stiles or he might get hurt’ thing. And not only do _we_ not want you to get hurt, but our wolves are… Weirdly protective of you? It’s kinda hard to explain. So a possible threat to you is making us not want to be by you, but we want to protect you at the same time?” Isaac is trying to explain, but Stiles catches on to the missing name.

        “But not Erica. He didn’t threaten Erica.” Stiles clenches his jaw a bit.

        “Right now she’s kinda been put in the SIC position. She’s been helping Derek nearly every second she has off.”

        “I don’t have to be a werewolf to know you’re lying.” Stiles mutters, and Isaac sighs, running a hand through his hair.

        “I don’t know her reason for avoiding you, but she still cares.” Isaac says.

        “She wouldn’t have beat the shit out of those guys if she didn’t.” Boyd points out, but Stiles is already walking out the door and to the health room, just so he can’t hear the two try to make up excuses for the blonde.

 

***

 

        “Waitwaitwaitwait!” Stiles says, straightening up considerably.

        “What?” Danny asks, leaning over to look at where Stiles is pointing as he rewinds the video.

        “You- You see that? Somebody put this on a loop. Right…. There! Did you see it?” Danny narrows his eyes, leaning in closer to watch as Stiles rewinds and hits play again. This time he catches the barely noticeable loop.

        “You’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and you’ve already caught something I haven’t in the days I’ve stared at this.”

        “Shut up. It’s not like you haven’t enjoyed staring at your favorite piece of eye candy. Shirtless. For _hours_.” Danny is scowling, but Stiles can see a faint blush spreading across the taller teen’s face and neck. “You should go in for the kill. He’s dumped Lydia, being a prick, and you’re the only one who actually seems to calm him down.”

        “Yeah, right.” Stiles narrows his eyes.

        “Nonono, don’t say it in that tone, dude. I’m being serious. Even if Jackson is only bi for a bit, I’d swoop.” Danny rolls his eyes, leaning back and crossing his arms as he raises a brow.

        “Yeah? And when are you going to ‘go in for the kill’  with your supposed ‘Green-Eyed Adonis’?” Danny questions, and Stiles blanches slightly.

        “A while after I’m certain just being near him doesn’t make him want to rip my throat out. With his teeth.” Danny’s brows furrows, leaning forward. “He doesn’t like me, dude. And there’s this really complicated thing that I can’t tell you about just yet, but he won’t let my friends see me because it might put me in danger.”

        “Put you in danger?” Danny echoes.

        “Like I said, giant complicated situation. Point is, though, is I’m _already_ constantly in danger, and my other friends being around might actually help me more than hurt me. And I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he knows that.” Danny looks worried, but Stiles waves off the comments and questions before the other can voice them. “No, it’s fine, Danny. I’ll just… Hang around with you, if it doesn’t bother you.”

        “How will I survive?” Danny deadpans, and Stiles snorts, shoving at his shoulder roughly but playfully.

        “Asshole. Let’s go show your hunk that somebody snuck in and fucked up.”

 

***

 

        Stiles had let Danny show Jackson what’s wrong with the video by himself. Half because he didn’t want to get his face pounded in, and half because he feels that the more impressed Jackson is, the better a chance Danny will have. That was about half an hour ago, and now Stiles is watching another one of his teammates fly through the air. “C’mon! Is that thing even a teenager? I want to see a birth certificate!” Coach Finstock shouts. He moves back, sitting down next to Stiles. “Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?”

        “Eddie Obamowittz, Coach. The call him the ‘Abomination’.” Stiles tells him, and the coach rolls his eyes.

        “Oh, that’s cute.” Stiles watches with narrows eyes as Jackson moves and grabs Scott, who motions to Allison and her grandfather. Allison twitches her hand correctly, and Stiles moves off of the bench and in her direction. Allison’s father gives her his jacket, and Allison slips his keys out of the pocket and hands them to Stiles as he walks past. Stiles starts running to the school. but he pauses as he sees Lydia crying.

        “Hey, Lydia? What’s wrong?” Lydia rolls up her window.

        “Just go away!”

        “Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles pushes.

        “Look, I don’t need anyone seeing me cry, okay?” Stiles sighs.

        “Oh, come on Lydia.” Stiles pauses, texting Allison to come out and help Allison. “Look, I don’t think you should care if people see you cry, alright? Especially you.” Lydia pauses, wiping at her face.

        “Why?”

        “Because I think you look beautiful when you cry, and so should everyone else, alright? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

        “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Lydia whispers, and Stiles’ face softens.

        “Lydia, it’s _me_.” Stiles points out, and a watery smiles flickers across Lydia’s painted lips. Stiles smiles a bit at her. “I promise you, there is absolutely _nothing_ you can say that will make me think you’re crazy, alright? Now, Allison is on  her way over, okay?”

        “Okay.”  
  
        “I want to be here for you, I really do. But I can’t right now, alright? But I can be tonight. Allison is gonna get here, and you two are gonna get you all cleaned up, and then after the game you two are gonna see a movie, alright?”

        “Alright.”

        “Not some cheesy bullshit romance one, either. We don’t need you even more upset, now do we? You’re gonna go watch a comedy movie, one that’s gonna make you forget about whatever’s going on, just for a little while. I’m gonna pick you up afterwards, and you’re gonna sleep at my house. Text your mom.” Stiles pauses. “Are you doing it?”

        “Ye-Yeah.” Lydia’s words hiccup as she suppresses a sigh.

        “Good. We’re gonna text your mom, and we’re gonna binge some random TV show on Netflix, and we’re gonna eat a fuckload of ice cream, alright? We’re gonna eat ice cream tonight and sleep until noon tomorrow, and then you’re gonna go shopping, and for only _one day_ I will willingly be your Ken-Doll, alright? Only tomorrow, though.”

        “Okay.”  
  
        “Amazing, and there’s Allison. She’s gonna take you to the bathroom and help you get cleaned up, and then she’s going to sit and watch the lacrosse game with you. Isn’t that right, Allison?” Stiles asks, and Allison nods.

        “Yeah, alright.”

        “Great. Lydia will fill you in on the rest of the plan. I gotta go raid your grandpa’s shit now.” Stiles runs past Allison and into the school. He makes it to the principal’s office in about three minutes, and he rummages for another two. He lets out an angry noise as he doesn’t find any book.

        Nothing here Stiles sends to Allison, jumping as a familiar blonde walks into the room to stand in front of the door.

        “Hello, Stiles.” Erica grins, and Stiles backs up. His hand goes up to the spot where Erica had hit him with a piece of his car, wincing away from the she-wolf. Laura is scowling nearby, her pale eyes narrowing at the blonde dangerously. Not that she can actually do anything to a living being without Stiles letting her into his mind and allowing her to have control of his body. The human stumbles back a bit more.

        “Uh- He-Hey, Erica. Long time no see, huh?” Stiles trips over his words, stuttering horribly. Erica rounds the desk, herding Stiles to the door before grabbing his by the back of his neck and dragging him with her towards the pool. They make it there within a minute, and a familiar ‘Green-Eyed Adonis’ appears, holding a basketball. He glances up at Stiles as the human walks in, making slightly pained sounds as Erica squeezes his neck a bit _too_ tightly. “ _Ah_!” Stiles wrenches his head out of Erica’s grip as soon as he can, a foot going behind him automatically as fight-or-flight instincts start to kick in.

        “Stiles.” The alpha greets.

        “Der-ek.” Stiles’ voice cracks because Stiles heard actual _hurt_ in it so he forced it into hiding halfway through.

        “What’d you see at the mechanic’s garage?” Oh look, ice water. What a horribly familiar sensation. Of course Derek doesn’t actually care about Stiles’ health. There’s no ‘are you okay?’s or ‘did it hurt you’s or even any ‘hello’s. Just ‘what did you see’. Stiles isn’t sure how he managed to trick himself into thinking it was gonna be any different. Why would he? It’s not like much has changed between him and the werewolf. In fact, it seems like he hates Stiles even _more_ now. Which, of course, Stiles doesn’t understand. He’s hasn’t _done_ anything to Derek really, and that’s a miracle.

        “Uhh, several alarming EPA violations that I’m seriously considering reporting.” Stiles bites on his bottom lip nervously, and Derek’s laugh is anything but genuine and slightly (extremely) terrifying. The man glances down at the basketball in his hands, tossing it around a bit before sinking his claws into it and squeezing the air out of it. The threat hits Stiles directly in the gut, and he can _feel_ himself pale.

        “ _Holy_ God.” Stiles stares down at the ball after Derek unceremoniously drops it to the floor. Actual _fear_ washes through Stiles. Right behind the adrenaline. Derek is staring at Stiles uncaringly.

        “Let’s try that again.” Stiles takes a step back, and Derek takes one forwards.

        “Alri-Alright. Uh- The thing- The thing was pretty slick looking. Skin was dark, kinda patterned. I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Okay? Because I have a game I really should be getting back to.” Derek looks up, eyes unimpressed as he stares at Stiles and _damn those cheekbones and perfect eyes and lack of flaws and_ _agh_. “Okay. Um- Alright, fine. Eyes- Eyes are yellowish and small. Um, _slitted_ , has a lot of teeth. Oh, and it has a tail, too.” Derek looks above Stiles, and Stiles can see his expression change dramatically. “Are-Are we good?” Stiles really wants to leave now.

        The human turns as he hears a hissing, and Derek grabs him, pulling him behind him as he crouches and growls at the thing. It hits Erica, sending her flying into the nearest wall. Of course, she passes out. Derek turns, shoving Stiles back with a shouted “Run!” The monster lunges at Derek, getting the back of his neck. Stiles pales, glancing at Laura with large eyes.

        “Derek, your neck.” Stiles warns, and Laura is hovering near him. Derek raises a hand to his neck, and starts falling. Stiles barely manages to grab his arm and sling it over his shoulder, helping Derek walk in between the pools. “Where is it? Do you see it?” He’s heading for an exit.

        “No, just- just hurry.” Derek orders, limping as one of his legs becomes paralyzed. “Call Scott.” Stiles swears as he drops his phone, bending to get it. “Fu- My legs! Son of a-” Derek pitches to the side, and Stiles stands up quickly. His phone is completely forgotten as he tugs off his shoes and his hoodie, diving in after Derek. He grabs the werewolf, pulling him to the surface as he pulls one of the man’s arms over his shoulder.

        “Where’d it go? Where is it? Do you see it?” Stiles questions, keeping both his and Derek’s head above water.

        “No.”

        “Okay, maybe it took off.” Stiles spits out water, tensing as a screech echoes through the building. Derek glances at him.

        “Maybe not.” Stiles glances at his phone. “Can you get me out of here before I drown?” Derek asks, and Stiles narrows his eyes.

        “You’re worried about _drowning_? Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of sharp teeth?” Stiles half-snaps.

        “Did you noticed that I’m paralyzed from the neck down in _eight feet of water_?” Derek fires back.

        “It’s only seven feet, don’t be dramatic.” And, once again, Stiles is reverting back to sarcasm while in a life or death situation. Derek narrows his eyes.

        “I said neck down. I can still tear your throat out.”

        “I know, I know. With your teeth. I get that you hate me, but, just a suggestion, _try to remember that I’m the one holding your ass up in seven feet of water_.” Stiles snaps, and Derek furrows his brows and narrows his eyes. He’s silent as Stiles looks around. “I don’t see it.” Stiles starts swimming toward the edge.

        “Waitwaitwait! Stop, stop!” Derek orders, and Stiles does. He looks to where Derek is focused to watch as this week’s monster crawls out of the shadows.

        “What’s it waiting for?” Stiles asks. He watches as the thing prowls closer, but as soon as it touches the water it recoils. Like it’s been burned. “Wait, did you see that? I don’t think it can swim. Stiles and Derek are in the middle of the pool for about fourteen more minutes before Derek actually speaks.

        “I don’t hate you.” He says casually, and Stiles pauses.

        “What?”

        “I don’t hate you.”

        “You don’t- You don’t?” Stiles is _so_ fucking confused right now. “Then why- Why did you order Boyd and Isaac to stay away from me?”

        “You could get hurt with them around.”

        “My _best friend_ is a _werewolf_ who’s dating _a hunter’s daughter_. I don’t think I could be in _more_ danger with said hunter’s daughter’s crazy ass grandpa around.” Stiles points out. “And it’s not like I’m exactly protected if something _does_ happen. Scott is too busy with Allison, and nobody else knows about what’s going on.” Derek sighs.

        “I see that now.” Hope sparks in Stiles.

        “So- So you’ll let them see me again?” Stiles asks, wincing at how _obvious_ his emotions are when he speaks.

        “I think I may have to assign somebody in the pack to be with you at all times if this is the type of shit you get into.” Derek’s voice is growley and protective (and actually somewhat possessive sounding), and Stiles pretends that the red that spreads across his face is from the workout he’s getting.

 

***

 

        “I can’t- I don’t think I can do this much longer.” Stiles huffs. His body is shaking, and he feel’s like he’s going to pass out.

        “ _Nononono!_ Don’t even _think_ about it!” Derek snaps.

        “Could you just trust me this _once_?” Stiles asks.

        “No!” Okay. That hurts. Stings. Burns. Stiles isn’t sure how to describe it. Maybe it’s like getting a tattoo? It hurts as you get it, stings for a while afterwards, and burns when you touch it too soon?

        “I’m the one keeping you alive, okay? Have you noticed that?” Stiles spits out more water.

        “Yeah. And when the paralysis wears off, who’s gonna be able to fight that thing? You or me?” Derek shoots back.

        “That’s why I’ve been holding you up the past two hours!” _Lie_.

        “If you don’t trust me, I don’t trust you.” Derek forces out between gulps of air. Both of their heads are going under far more often now. “You need me to survive which is why you’re- _not letting me go_.” Derek says, his tone turning a bit more panicked as Stiles starts to loosen his grip. Stiles takes a deep breath, and Derek does the same. Stiles promptly lets go of Derek, swimming over to the side to grab his phone. The monster is heading for it too, but Stiles grabs it and swims back, treading water right above Derek. He calls Scott. He answers.

        “Scott!” Stiles shouts.

        “ _I can’t talk right now_.” Scott hangs up, and Stiles stares at his phone. He lets out an angry noise, before he throws his phone and swims down, grabbing Derek again.

        “Tell me you got him!” Derek says, and Stiles can’t find it in him to respond. He grabs Derek, holding him against his chest as he does his best to float and tread as slowly as he can so he spends as little energy as he can.

 

***

 

        Another hour, and another screech echoes through the room. “I can’t stay up any longer. I need something  to hold onto.” Stiles groans, and he starts swimming towards the diving boards, dragging Derek with him. He moves to grab a handle, but his grip slips. Suddenly, both him and Derek are grabbed and thrown out of the water. Scott _roars_ , rolling as he’s tackled to the side. The creature throws him into a mirror, and Scott holds up a shard as a knife. The creature pasuses in it’s attack, staring at its’ reflection before it runs.

        “What the hell was _that_?” Stiles is the first to break the silence.

 

***

 

        Stiles stares at the laptop screen, leaning on Scott’s car next to him. “Is that- Is that even a-a lang-language?” Stiles is shivering, the cold pool water and the breeze fucking with his body temperature. He’d managed to take off his hoodie to give him and derek less weight, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to strip Derek of anything to make him lighter. Or even _think_ about stripping the wolf of anything without his face burning. “How-How are we supposed- Supposed to find out-t-t what this thing-ng i-is?” Scott frowns at his friend.

        “It’s called a Kanima.” Derek says, walking over. He frowns as he sees Stiles’ shivering, walking over and forcing an extra shirt and his coat onto the teen. His hoodie had been pushed into the pool when the monster slipped a bit on it.

        “You knew the whole time.” Stiles sighs.

        “No. Only when it was confused by its’ own reflection.” Derek corrects, zipping up his jacket before he steps back.

        “It doesn’t know what it is.” Scott says.

        “Or who.”

        “What else do you know?” Stiles asks.

        “Not a lot. I’ve heard stories, legends-”

        “But it’s like us?” _Minus Stiles_ the only human in the current area adds on mentally.

        “A shapeshifter, yes. But, it’s-it’s not right. It’s like a-”

        “An abomination.” Derek looks up, nodding at Stiles a bit slowly as watches the teen’s shaking slow.

        “Derek, we need to work together on this. Maybe even tell the Argents.”

        “You trust them?” Derek says.

        “Not with their crazy ass grandpa home for the holidays.” Stiles says at the same time.

        “Nobody trusts _anybody_! That’s the problem! While we’re here arguing about who’s on whose side, there’s something bigger, stronger, and faster than _any_ of us, and it’s _killing people_! And we still don’t know _anything_ about it!” Scott snaps.

        “I know one thing.” Derek says, turning around as he starts walking away. “When I find it, I’m gonna kill it.” Derek’s words trail behind him, and Stiles feels a shiver run up his spine. He turns around and gets into his jeep, driving off to the movie theater to pick up Lydia.


	10. Season Two, Episodes Eleven and Twelve (AKA Lookie Here Something Is Different About Stiles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might actually start the new plot line next chapter instead of chapter twelve, so that one will be up on Sunday and we'll be back to our normal schedule so yea
> 
> ***

        “ _Lydia_! Oh my god, I can’t let you just-” Stiles half-chokes as Lydia swipes her debit card carelessly. The strawberry blonde flips her hair over her shoulder, feigning innocence scarily well.

        “You being my Ken-Doll means that I need to buy your accessories and clothes.” Lydia says cheekily, and Stiles runs a hand over his face.

        “This is too stressful for my poor heart to take.” Stiles murmurs, placing his other hand against his chest dramatically. Lydia rolls her eyes, smiling at the cashier as she leads Stiles to the next store.

        “Please, you’ve dealt with worse. Danny should be meeting us right about….”

        “There he is! In something other than a flannel, might I add.” Stiles hits Danny over the back of his head.

        “Dick.” Scott has been kinda drifting away from Stiles to hang out with a few of the lacrosse players and occasionally Isaac, so Stiles had to make new friends. Highly unexpected new friends. In fact, two of the people he never thought he’d befriend (right behind the lacrosse team, which is right under Jackson). To add onto the ‘what the actual fuck’ factor, Jackson has some form of reluctant respect for Stiles for some _unknown_ reason. Stiles has been trying to figure out why the jock even nods at him when they accidentally look at each other.

        It’s helpful, though. Especially when it came to trying to chain Jackson up. Sure, he was pissed, and he didn’t want to believe anything that Scott said, but Stiles could see the slight doubt when he spoke to the blond. And for some reason, Jackson had skipped Stiles’ name while he got a restraining order on Scott. Thank god for small, confusing as fuck miracles. When Stiles actually thinks about, it may have to do with the fact that Danny is friends with him. So maybe Danny has a chance with his ‘favorite piece of eye candy’.

        While Stiles had said Lydia would only use him as a Ken-Doll _one singular time_ , the other has managed to convince him to be one yet again. And the amount of money being spent on him is killing him slowly. “No Isaac? Or Boyd? Or Erica? Or _Derek_?” Danny wiggles his brows at the last name, and Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes, stopping just before he pulls a hand through his hair. Lydia drops her ice cold glare as he drops his hand.

        “No. No furries that took it too far today. So far. Hopefully. Ever since the ‘keep away from Stiles’ rule was dropped, it’s been fucking impossible to escape _any_ of them for more than a few hours.” Stiles told Danny and Lydia about what’s going on. At first, he was going to do it just out of spite, but then he figured that the two have the right to know what the fuck is up with Beacon Hills and its’ citizens. They actually didn’t ask for proof, just believed Stiles. And damn if somebody actually _trusting_ Stiles didn’t feel good.

        “I think I can see a puppy with Justin Bieber hair heading in our direction. We should move. To the food court, preferably.”

        “Or- _Or_ we could go to a restaurant somewhere _not_ serving fast food and _not_ in the mall?” Stiles suggests, and Lydia rolls her eyes as Danny shrugs. “I’ll pa-”

        “I’ve got it.” Danny offers, not letting Stiles speak any more about the subject as the humans make their way to Stiles’ jeep, and then to the Cheesecake Factory.

 

***

 

        Stiles continues fixing his lacrosse stick. “You know, when you’re drowning, you don’t actually inhale until right before you blackout.” Stiles says. “It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like, no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let in any water is so strong, you won’t open your mouth until it feels like your head's gonna explode. Then, when you do finally let it in, that’s when it finally stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore it’s- It’s actually kind of peaceful.” Stiles’ hands are shaking a bit.

        “Are you saying you hope Matt found some peace in his last moments?” Stiles lets out a deep breath.

        “I don’t feel sorry for him.” Stiles says honestly.

        “Can you feel sorry for the nine year old Matt who drowned?”

        “Just because a bunch of dumbasses threw him into a pool when he can’t swim doesn’t give him the right to go off and kill all of them.” Stiles points out, leaning forward a bit as  he puts his lacrosse stick on his lap. “And, by the way, my Dad said they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt’s computer. And not just of her, though. He photoshopped himself into the pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing and- Like he’d built this whole fake relationship.” The guidance councilor stays silent. “So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old set him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the _crazy train_.”

        “One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?” Stiles nods a bit slowly. She’s talking about how Stiles’ dad got his job back. People somehow figured that Scott is close enough to John to help him lose his job, apparently.

        “Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there’s something wrong between us.” Probably because he can tell that Stiles is hiding something huge. Like, I don’t know, the fact that werewolves exist? And that he’s become insanely attached to a pack that hasn’t spoken to him for days? “It’s just- There’s this tension when we talk. Same thing with Scott.”

        “Have you talked to him since that night?” Stiles feels his stomach drop a bit before he answers honestly.

        “No, not really. I mean, he’s got his own problems to deal with, though.” Like the fact that Melissa is scared of him. His own mother. Completely ignoring him and hiding away in her room when he walks out of his. Hell, Stiles is half sure that _his own father_ is scared of _him_. The _human_ member of all the crazy shit going on. Just because of how he acted with a gun to his head. “I don’t think  he’s talked to Allison, but that might be more her choice, you know?” Allison isn’t really talking to Stiles anymore, either. It’s scaring him. “Her mom’s death hit her pretty hard, but I guess it brought her and her dad closer together. Jackson… Hasn’t really been himself lately. Funny thing is, Lydia seems to be the one most normal right now.”

        “What about you, Stiles? Feeling some.. anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?” Stiles pauses, one of the strings from his lacrosse stick in his mouth.

        “Why would you ask me that?” He glances down at the string, before removing it from his mouth. “Uh, no. I-I never actually play. But, hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one is missing, who knows, right?” Stiles feels sick, so he tries to joke about what’s going on. Humor and sarcasm are his defense mechanisms.

        “Are you talking about Isaac? One of the three runaways? You haven’t- heard anything, have you?” No. And it’s making Stiles _physically ill_. He constantly feels like he’s gonna puke, he’s getting a fuckton of headaches, and, when he has nothing to do but think, he can’t really stop the tears that come and refuse to go away.

        “Why- Why aren’t you writing anything down?” Stiles asks instead of answering. Because there’ll be too much pain in his voice to be normal if he answers the councilor’s question.

        “I do my notes after the session.” She says.

        “Your memory’s that good?”

        “How about we get back to you?” Damn, she saw _straight through_ Stiles. Scarily easily. “Stiles?

        “I’m fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the feeling sick when I eat, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something bad is about to happen.” Stiles says, glancing up at the woman.

        “It’s called hypervigilance. The... persistent feeling of being under threat.”

        “I-I-It’s not just a feeling though. It’s- It’s like a panic attack. You know, like I can’t even breath.”

        “Like you’re drowning?” Damn, she’s good.

        “Yeah.”

        “So, if you’re drowning, and you’re trying to keep your mouth closed until that _very last moment_ , what if you decide to keep your mouth closed? To not let the water in?’

        “You do anyway, it’s a reflex.”

        “But, if you hold off until that reflex. You have more time, right?”

        “Not much time.”

        “But more time? More time to get to the surface?”

        “I-I guess.”

        “More time to be rescued.”

        “More time to be in agonizing pain. I- Did you forget the part about feeling like your _head's_ gonna _explode_?”

        “If it’s about survival, isn’t a little agony worth it?”

        “But what if it just gets worse? What if- What if it’s agony now, and it’s just hell later on?”

        “Then, think about something Winston Churchill once said. If you’re going through Hell, keep going.” Stiles is silent for a few moments, his eyes flickering around. He then nods slowly, letting out a shuddery breath. He stands up after he glances at the clock. “I’ll see you next week.”

 

***

 

        Stiles hears his window being opened and he jumps to his feet, tripping backwards. Isaac grabs his arm quickly, his blue eyes wide. “Dude! You scared the shit out of me!” Stiles shouts, flailing as well as he can with one arm being held in place. “And- And where the hell have you _been_? Holy shit, I was so fucking scared that a _hunter_ got to you! I’ve been _physically ill with worry_ you dumbass! You couldn’t even leave a _note_ or sent a text just to go ‘ _hey, Stiles. Sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I’m just kinda bored with the human_ ’ or something?”

        “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go away for so long, but Erica and Boyd kept thinking they heard howling, and-and-and I wanted to see if I could- ya know, smell anything? I wasn’t _bored_ of you, Stiles. I don’t think anybody could ever become _bored_ with you.” Isaac’s hands are up in a surrendering position, and Stiles sags slightly.

        “I- Did you smell anything?” Stiles asks, taking a deep, slightly shuddery breath. His eyes widen a bit as Isaac is suddenly against him. The top of his head is against Stiles’ chin, and his hands are close to his body as he shoves himself against the human. “ _Oh_ my god. Isaac? Are you okay, buddy?” Stiles’ tone has changed from ‘slightly scared and pissed off parent’ to ‘worried parent’ and why the fuck does he sound like his mom whenever he’s talking to Isaac? “...Isaac?”

        “I-I-I should be going with them or- or _offering_ to go with them, right?” Isaac’s voice is shaky, and Stiles wraps his arms around the wolf before he really realizes what he’s doing. He tightens his hold when he feels Isaac crying.

        “Heyheyhey, Isaac? Listen to me, alright buddy? You don’t have to do _anything_ , alright? You can do whatever you want? Why do you feel like you have to go with them?” Stiles asks, his tone gentle.

        “Be-Because they’re pack.” Isaac sounds a bit confused.

        “Alright. Why don’t you want to go with them?”

        “Because I don’t want to leave you or Derek. They didn’t really want to leave you either. And the whole thing just seems _off_ , ya know? Why would there suddenly be another pack in Beacon Hills? Derek said that enough packs respected his mother to keep off her land, even with her gone.” Stiles nods. It’s harder than it looks when there’s a nearly immovable head underneath his chin still. Isaac is still crying, and Stiles runs a hand through his hair calmingly.

        “Shh, Isaac. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, alright? Derek is just as much pack as they are. Don’t feel like you have to leave because of a decision they made, alright?”

        “So are you?”

        “Hmm?”

        “You’re pack too. I can feel it. Usually I can smell it, but you smell off because nobody’s been here in a few days.”

        “Oh- Uh, thanks, Isaac. Not sure the rest of your pack would agree, though.” Stiles mutters, “Especially not Derek.” Isaac pulls away so he can look Stiles in the eyes.

        “That isn’t how it works. I wouldn’t feel the pull if you _weren’t_ pack. It’s not- Not a thing that’s different between every person in a pack. If somebody is pack, then you can feel it. And smell it. And Derek said last night that you’re pack.”

        “He- I- What?”

        “Yeah. What are you working on?” Isaac pulls away with a shaky breath, looking at Stiles’ laptop.

        “That final review for- You sneaky son of a bitch.” Isaac gives Stiles a watery grin, and Stiles just goes with the change in topic, because he’s pretty sure that any more talking about Boyd or Erica will cause the pup to cry again.

 

***

 

        Stiles in on edge as Coach gives his speach. Danny had told him that Jackson ordered him to stay in the goal and to run if he saw Jackson coming at him. Stiles jumps a bit as Melissa taps him on the shoulder. “What the hell is he talking about?”

        “He does this every year.” Stiles tells Scott’s mom as the Coach continues to ramble about fighting for your life.

        “Wait, is this-”

        “Yeah. It’s the speech from Independence Day. It’s Coach’s favorite movie.”

        “He… Doesn’t know any _sports_ speeches?” Melissa asks.

        “I don’t think he cares.” Stiles tenses as Gerard walks into the locker room, and he slowly moves to stand in front of Melissa and Isaac (who won’t be playing but sitting next to Melissa). Stiles hangs around as Scott runs to Finstock.

        “Coach, are you benching me?”

        “It’s not my decision.”

        “But I have to play!”

        “McCall, you’re failing three classes. Academics come first.” It’s clear that Coach thinks that’s bullshit.

        “Coach, you don’t get it. You have to let me play.”

        “McCall, not tonight. Tonight, you’re on the bench.” Stiles frowns, patting Scott’s shoulder and wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulders as he leads him to the bench.

        “Your dad comin’?” Scott asks after the two are both sitting down.

        “Yeah, he’s already here.” Stiles nods towards his dad. “Have you seen Allison?”

        “Nope. Have you seen Lydia?”

        “You know what’s going on?”

        “Not yet.” Scott sighs, sounding pained.

        “It’s- It’s gonna be bad, isn’t it? Like, people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, screaming kind of bad?” Scott glances at him.

        “Looks like it.” Stiles’ eyes are watering a bit.

        “Scott, the other night seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, and just not being able to move. It just- I wanna- I wanna help, you know? But I can’t do the things you do. Not without Laura.”

        “You _can_.” Scott insists, but Stiles just shrugs, looking around for previously spoken of ghost.

        “We’re losing, man.”

        “What the hell are you talking about? The game hasn’t even started yet.” Stiles and Scott both jump as Coach Finstock appears out of nowhere. “Now get your helmet on, you’re in for Greenberg.”

        “What? What happened to Greenberg?” Stiles asks, looking around for the other high schooler.

        “What happened to Greenberg? He sucks, you suck… Slightly less.”

        “I’m playing? On the field? With the _team_?” Stiles can hear excitement coloring his words.

        “Yes. Unless you’d rather play with yourself.”

        “I already did that today. Twice.” _While thinking about how many ways one can get stubble burn in easily hidden places_.

        “ _Get the hell out there_!” Finstock snaps, and Stiles grabs his helmet and puts it on before grabbing his stick and rushing to the front of the goal. His face flushes red when his dad stands up and shouts about how he’s on the field.

        “ _Oh_ dear god.” He mutters before he clears his throat. Stiles frowns as he sees Jackson slowly look up. He waves at Lydia as she sits on the bench next to Melissa and his Dad. He fixes his net a bit, and the whistle is blown, signalling the start of the game. The opposing team scores easily enough the first time, but the second time the ball is hit and it lands directly in Stiles’ net. Normally he’d hesitate, but Laura is suddenly behind him. She shoves him with a snapped ‘ _run, dumbass!_ ’

        Stiles takes off, spinning around a guy charging at him. He accidentally goes the wrong way, though, and he’s tackled quickly. A boy named Cody messes up a second time, and then again after basically shoving Stiles out of the way to get the ball. Stiles winces, seeing his dad with his face in his hands, but something tugs in his chest and causes him to look at the bench. Isaac gives him a bright smile when he sees him looking. He glances at Gerard and starts talking to Scott.

        “So, I’m gonna bench some guys to get Scott in the game.” Isaac warns.

 

***

 

        Jackson hits Isaac, and the werewolf goes down. He’s unable to move, and Stiles grits his teeth, glaring at Gerard because he knows that he ordered Jackson to use his poison thing to cripple Isaac. Stiles and Scott are hit by the same person, and Stiles scowls at the dude, getting up. Scott runs over to him after a bit. “Isaac is in trouble.”

        “I know.” Stiles bites.

        “You know?”

        “Yeah. I can feel it. Go help him.” Scott nods, and Stiles takes a deep breath as the werewolf sneaks off. The ball rolls to his feet, and he grabs it, turning and running towards the opposite goal as about thirteen people chase after him. He lets out a small (manly) sound of fear before he starts sprinting, eyes locking on the goal. He pauses, waiting until the others are closer and the goalie feels more confident before feigning left and shooting right. The ball flies past the goalie, hitting the back of the net. The crowd stands and cheers.

        “I scored a goal? I scored a goal!”  Stiles shouts, and he lines up again. The next play, the ball is passed to him. He catches it and starts running, spinning around an opposing player (the right way this time) and he charges the goal. The ball hits the net again. More cheering. The score is even. “Yes! _Yes!_ Whoo!” Stiles throws his hands up happily. Stiles makes the next goal. And the next. And the one after that.

        Scott shoves himself through the crowd of people, and time runs out, Beacon Hills winning by two points. Stiles is celebrating with the rest of the team, but then the field lights start turning off one by one. The sudden darkness blinds Stiles, so he isn’t able to swing properly at whoever grabs him, shoves a piece of cloth into his mouth, and drags him away.

 

***

 

        Stiles is shoved, and he very nearly falls down the flight of stairs. He barely catches himself, and the door behind him closes his quickly. Stiles rips the piece of cloth out of his mouth, and he quickly unties his hands. He hears pained, struggling sounds, and he scrambles to turn on the lights. Lydia and Boyd are bound at the wrists with some kind of wire, and while Boyd is able to stand on the very tips of his toes, Erica is hanging. “ _Oh_ my god. Oh my god are you guys- No you’re not okay. How could you possibly be okay?” Stiles stares at the tears running down Erica’s face and he smudged makeup. He ignores her sounds, reaching up to try to untie her. He cusses, pulling his hand back quickly as electricity runs up his arm. Strong enough to make it numb for a few terrifying moments. The door upstairs opens, and Gerard starts to walk down the steps.

        “They were trying to tell you it’s electrified.”

        “What are you doing with them?” Stiles asks, unaware to the way he moves to stand in front of the betas.

        “At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There’s no point in torturing them, they won’t give Derek up. Their instinct to protect their alpha is too strong.” Gerard is still staring straight at Stiles.

        “Okay, so what are you doing with me?” Stiles questions. “Cause- Cause Scott could find me. He knows my scent. It’s pungent. More like a stench. He’d be able to find me even in a sewer, covered in wolfsbane.”

        “You have a knack of creating a vivid picture, Mr.Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend bloody and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?” Gerard moves to stand in front of Stiles.

        “I think I’d prefer more of a still-life or landscape, you know?” Stiles clenches his teeth together as he sees Gerard clench his jaw. He refuses to say anything else. Refuses to be the one to start the fight. He shakes his head slightly as Laura starts to approach, having no doubt that this room is werewolf proof. Gerard backhands Stiles, much stronger than a normal ninety year old is. Stiles stumbles to the floor, and Gerard grabs him by the jersey. “Okay, wait- wait-” Gerard decks him, refusing to listen to anything he says.

        The old man continues to deck Stiles, until the world starts to go dark around the edges.

 

***

 

        Stiles doesn’t allow himself to cry. At least not until he fixes everything. He’s picked up Lydia and Danny, and he’s hoping he’ll get there in time, and he isn’t going to cry. Stiles drives through the wall, hitting _something_. He opens his eyes. “Did I get him?!” He asks, and he screams as something jumps onto the car. Derek grabs him, pulling him back with an angry snarl at the kanima. Lydia and Danny rush to Jackson. Lydia holds up Jackson’s house key, and Danny pulls her behind him quickly.

        Jackson takes the key from Lydia, and he’s still snarling until he focuses on Danny. His scales start receding, and Danny holds him until he pries himself away, nodding at Derek. Both Derek and the other Hale (how the fuck is _he_ alive?) rush to the kanima, claws sinking into his abdomen. Danny rushes back to Jackson, holding him by the shoulders. “Nonono, Jackson- Jackson, no!” Danny cries, clutching at the blond as he starts leaning back and lays on the ground. The scales disappear completely, and Lydia runs to Allison, burying her face in the brunette’s shoulder.

        Stiles pulls her away quickly, half-snarling at Allison. Lydia looks confused and worried, but she just rests her head against Stiles’ chest instead. Stiles doesn’t trust Allison. Not anymore. Not when she can mercilessly fill Boyd and Erica with arrows. Not when she can almost _kill_ them without remorse. Danny starts stumbling to Stiles, but he pauses as he hears the scraping of claws against cement. Jackson’s eyes fly open, a vibrant blue that’s extremely different than their normal shade.

        Danny’s breath catches, and he turns as Jackson stands (butt ass naked, may Stiles add). His face is shifted, and he bends back a bit, letting out a howl that’s much better than Scott’s first one. Danny runs to Jackson, clutching him like he’s a lifeline. Jackson returns the favor without hesitation. Stiles pauses at the scene, something twisting violently inside of him. Something green and unbelonging. Because he can’t find it in himself to be happy for the two. Because he’s the only one who doesn’t have a future with somebody.

        Jackson has Danny, Scott has his thing with Isaac, Lydia and Allison like each other (no matter how much Stiles disapproves), and Boyd and Erica have each other. Stiles is just… Stiles. A human boy who hangs out with werewolves and has an embarrassingly huge crush on the one he has the least chance with. Stiles turns and heads back to his car, rubbing at his face before wincing away from his hand as he accidentally rubs against his injuries. He starts his car, and starts on his way home.

 

***

 

        Of course, Stiles doesn’t actually go home first. No. He has to chase after Boyd and Erica, who started to run. “Guys, get in the fucking Jeep. Something feels off.” Stiles says, peering around into the trees.

        “I-”

        “Are going to miss me terribly. I know. Which is why you aren’t leaving until I take you to at least seven places I promise you’ve never been to. Now-” Stiles tenses up, his eyes snapping to the fog in front of him. “ _Get. In. The. Car_.” He orders, his voice suddenly lacking all humor. Something in his voice changes, something he can’t hear that makes the beta’s eyes shine amber. Erica and Boyd tense, but the climb into the car quickly after Stiles snaps a glare in their direction. The human turns around and races to  a shitty restaurant to pick up Isaac. The curly haired boy climbs into the car without complaint, and they all plan to stay the night at Stiles’ house.

 

***

 

        Stiles swears he just woke up, but that’s gotta be impossible. Because that’s not Isaac’s or Erica’s or even Boyd’s arm wrapped around his torso. And none of them have stubble like the type pressed against the back of his neck. And none of their chests are perfect size for Stiles to lay against, and Stiles can see parts of them, and only Isaac is right up against him. Tucked against his chest, actually. His head under Stiles’ chin. It seems to be his favorite comforting position. Stiles is fine with that. But Stiles can see Boyd’s legs facing the wrong way just past a jean covered pair, and Erica is laying on top of Boyd.

        But Derek doesn’t even like Stiles, so the human is pretty certain that he’s dreaming.


	11. Season Three, Episode Three (AKA What's Up With His Eyes)

        Stiles groans as his phone starts screaming. Well, it may as well be, because there’s literally no other noise in the house besides breathing. Laura glares down at the phone, as it seems to have woken her up too, before she chucks it at Stiles. “Answer the damn thing already.” She snaps, and Stiles rolls his eyes. Turns out, permanently binding a spirit to you allows them to speak freely. Wonderful news. Really.

        “Yeah?” Stiles asks, forgetting to look at the phone before answering it. There’s a pause on the other side.

        “ _Stiles?_ ” Said human’s eyes snap open quickly, and he sits up rapidly, running a hand through his hair to fix it even though Derek can’t see it.

        “Derek, hey! What’s up?” Stiles winces at his suddenly excited tone. “I- Uh- I-I mean… What’s up?” Stiles says it in a much calmer tone now, and he chooses to ignore the way that Erica and Jackson snort and how Laura full on laughs. at him. _Rude_.

        “ _Right… We found Boyd. And.. Uh, another werewolf. And they’ve been cut off from the moon for a long period of time, so they’re feral for now. We’re pretty sure that Boyd will calm down as soon as he gets to you._ ” Stiles scrambles out of his bed, and Erica watches from the other side with a raised brow as he, surprisingly, lands on his feet.

        “What’s going on?” Erica asks. The alpha pack had messed with her senses a bit before Stiles was able to get her out of where the kept her (sadly in an area not with Boyd), so her super-senses turn on and off randomly.

        “What about the other wolf?” Stiles asks Derek before he turns to Erica. He puts a hand over the microphone on his phone before he speaks. “They found Boyd. Right now he’s running around half-feral and they need one of us to calm him or something. Not sure why he’d calm down for me, but whatever. I’m not letting you go because your spidey-senses are on the fritz, Jackson only smells half-wolf and he’s not close enough to Boyd, so that leaves me.” Stiles explains, throwing on jeans and a regular shirt. He grabs the leather jacket that Erica had given him about a month ago.

        “ _The other wolf might calm down for you, but we aren’t holding out hope on that. She didn’t even respond to me._ ” Derek sounds a bit hurt, so Stiles doesn’t breach that topic.

        “Where do you need me to go?” Stiles asks, and he hears Scott yelling something in the background.

        “ _Go. Find Boyd, Stiles._ ” Derek orders, and then he hangs up. Stiles rolls his eyes, shoving his phone into his pocket.

        “Hey, Stiles. How are you. Sorry to wake you up, there’s just a chance of somebody dying again and we need your help. Again. Thank you so much. I really appreciate everything you do for my pack.” Stiles sasses under his breath, tugging on his shoes. Erica is frowning, and Jackson shouts ‘ _Our pack_ ’ after him, but Stiles ignores them, picking up his phone as it starts ringing again as he heads downstairs. “Hello?” There’s panicked breathing.

        “ _Stiles?_ ”  
  
        “Lydia?” Stiles tenses, starting his jeep. He starts driving down the street.

        “ _I- There’s a body. Stiles- Stiles there’s a dead body and oh my god there’s so much blood and_ -”

        “Lydia, calm down. Tell me where you are.” Stiles orders, and he hears the shakiness of Lydia’s breathing. “Deep breathing, Lydia. Tell me where you are.”

        “ _The pool._ ”

        “The pool?” Stiles bites his lip, cussing wildly in his mind as he takes a sharp left. Hopefully he’ll make it to the school in time. “I’m on my way, alright? Don’t- Don’t touch anything.”

        “ _Yeah, no shit, Sherlock._ ” Lydia lets out a shaky, humorless laugh.

        “Fuck you, Watson. I’ll be there in about three minutes. Focus on breathing.”

 

***  
  


        Stiles actually makes it in two. “Lydia? Lydia!” Stiles shouts, getting out of his Jeep quickly. “Lydia, are you alright?” He asks.

        “Am I _alright_? That, over there? Not okay?” Lydia’s eyes are a bit glassy, and Stiles puts a hand on Lydia’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Surprisingly, she relaxes slightly, and she seems to be more with Stiles now.

        “Alright, I’ll call my dad.” Stiles mutters, starting to pull out his phone.

        “I already called 911.” Lydia says, and Stiles pauses.

        “You called the police before you called me?” Stiles questions.

        “I’m supposed to call you first when I find a dead body?” Lydia asks in disbelief. Stiles very nearly throws his hands in the air in exasperation.

        “Yes! Lydia, there are _werewolves_ running around, fucking shit up! The police can’t deal with that kinda problem!” Stiles shouts. “I- I’m gonna call Scott.” Stiles mutters, pulling out his phone.

        “ _Stiles?_ ” Scott answers quickly.

        “Yeah, um. There’s a dead body at the pool. Here. Here at the pool.” Stiles says. “And it doesn’t look like it’s because of a serial killer. This looks like something supernatural.” Stiles tells the werewolf. And the other werewolves that are listening to the conversation.

        “ _Are you sure?_ ”

        “Yep. Throat ripped out, blood everywhere. It’s like the freaking _Shining_ over here. If two little girls come out of the woods asking me to play with them forever, I’m not gonna be surprised.” Stiles says.

_“Can you get closer to the body to see if it was them?_ ”

        “I- Scott, I don’t think it was them. I’m not getting… Yeah.” Stiles has only told Scott about the oddity of feeling _something_ whenever one of Derek’s pack has been in the area. “I mean, sure. They _should_ be the only ones going around ripping people’s throats out, but I’m like 500% sure it wasn’t them.”

_“Please just do it._ ” Scott sounds annoyed, and Stiles scowls. The werewolf hung up on him. He moves closer to the body, wincing at the slashed throat. There’s a ring he’s wearing, though, and he narrows his eyes as he gets close enough to see the word written around it. _Purity_.

        “He was a virgin.” Stiles mutters to himself, so he doesn’t forget it. Lydia doesn’t hear him, so she doesn’t react to the odd fact. “Alright, are you okay to stay here? Boyd and some other werewolf are running around three-fourths feral, and I need to get to the school to stop them.” Stiles tells Lydia, and her eyes widen.

        “Did they-”

        “No. I’m not sure how I know it, but this wasn’t them. This was something else. Something bad, but I need to get to the school so they _don’t_ do something like this. Alright? Will you be okay?” Stiles asks.

        “I’ll be alright until the police get here.” Lydia murmurs, and Stiles nods. He gets back to his Jeep and rips off the plastic bags he’d used to stop DNA or footprints to be left in the pool area. He opens his windows completely, and he speeds down the street, narrowly escaping the notice of the police officers and his dad that are speeding down the road a few blocks back. He starts driving around aimlessly.

 

***

 

        Stiles stiffens, sitting up straighter as he hears nearby growling. He glances at his rearview mirror and swears as he sees long hair dive past him that _definitely_ doesn’t belong to Boyd. He whips out his phone and guns it. “Derek?” Stiles asks.

        “ _Stiles? What is it? Are you okay?_ ” Stiles raises a brow.

        “Right now, yeah. Physically. A bit terrified. On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that that second werewolf you were talking about will eat me?” Stiles asks, and he hears Derek swear violently. “That low on the scale, huh? Wonderful. I’m going to the school. Nobody should be there right now, and the boiler room has a thick enough door for us to be able to lock the two wolves in there until sunrise. See you there.” Stiles hangs up quickly, speeding up as he sees the flash of amber eyes in his side mirrors.

 

***

 

        Stiles cusses as he’s thrown into a wall, his vision going black for a moment. The she-wolf starts to advance on him, but Boyd is suddenly between them, _roaring_ at the other wolf. Stiles furrows his brows, because the stars start disappearing from his vision, there’s a slight itch at the back of his head, and the she-wolf suddenly stiffens, her eyes glowing amber again. Boyd kneels down next to Stiles, prodding him until he’s able to half-lay on him. The she-wolf wanders, over, and Stiles tenses as she leans over him. Half because he’s terrified that she’s going to kill him, and half because _what the shit my eyes are glowing silver_. So noticeable that the human can see it reflected in the she-wolf’s eyes.

        Stiles flinches as the she-wolf leans in, sniffing him a few times before she drops down, burying her face between Stiles’ neck and shoulder. Stiles tenses, waiting for fangs or claws to sink into his skin, but the she-wolf just whines and buries her face further into his neck. Stiles hesitantly lifts his arm, placing his hand in the wolf’s hair and playing with the dark strands in a way that usually calms Jackson. Stiles shifts, barely managing to get the werewolves to let him lay against the wall instead of on the nasty floor. He’s half asleep when Derek bursts through the doors, eyes red, fangs out, and claws extended.

        He slides to a halt at the sight of Stiles nearly asleep between two wolfed out betas, his face softening and his claws and fangs retreating quickly. Derek approaches the three quietly, shoving a bit at Stiles’ shoulder. The human’s eyes open sleepily, and they have trouble focusing on the alpha. “C’mon. We gotta get them home, and Melissa wants to see you at the hospital. You can go back to sleep after that.” Derek murmurs, and Stiles furrows his brows and _god dammit it’s not adorable it’s_ ** _not_.**

        Stiles makes an annoyed noise, and Derek rolls his eyes, shooing the werewolves off of him. They start to growl, but they shut up when Stiles waves a hand at them, still half asleep. “My house?” Stiles asks, struggling to stand up.

        “Yes, Stiles. They’re going to your house.” Derek says, and he sighs after a full minute of Stiles half-stumbling to the entrance, picking him up and carrying him to the jeep. The teen’s face is cherry red, and Derek forces down a small smile, replacing it with a slight scowl instead as he focuses on the road. He drops the werewolves off at Stiles’ house before driving to the hospital. He and Stiles depart there.

 

***

 

        Stiles walks into the hospital quickly, and Melissa looks up as he stops next to her, rubbing his eyes a bit. “Hey.”

        “Hey.” Stiles greets.

        “Over here.” Melissa leads Stiles through the hall, a hand on his mid-back. “And I swear to god, if you tell anybody that I showed you this, I will kill you painfully. Slowly.”

        “Why do you want to show me a body I’ve already seen?” Stiles asks as Melissa looks behind them before leading them into a room.

        “Because you haven’t seen everything.” She pulls the green-ish blanket off of the body. “You see this around his neck? That’s a ligature mark. That means he was strangled with something. Maybe a rope? Which means that it wasn’t a werewolf. And look at this.” She tilts the man’s head to the side, and Stiles recoils a bit.

        “Ah, man. What is that? Is that brain matter? ...Yeah, it’s brain matter. Of course.” Melissa looks up with a raised brow.

        “Do you see that indentation? He was hit  with something hard enough to kill him. I mean, any _one_ of these things could have killed him! Somebody really wanted this poor kid dead!”

        “Then it definitely wasn’t a werewolf. Maybe it was just a one time thing, then? Maybe it was just a coincidence?”

        “I don’t think it’s just a one time thing.” Melissa frowns.

        “Why do you say that?”

        “Because that girl over there? She’s got the exact same injuries.” Stiles turns to stare at the body, paling a bit. Melissa walks over to the body, lifting the blanket-thing off of her. Stiles freezes at the familiar face. “The M.E. said this one wasn’t just strangled. Whoever killed her used a garrote, which is a stick that you push through the rope and just keep kinda twisting, and- Stiles?” Stiles is staring at the body, his dark eyes wide. “Oh my god, did you _know_ her? I’m so sorry.” Melissa covers her back up. “I didn’t even think.”

        “I was, uh. I was at her party. It was her birthday. Her name is Heather.” Stiles wipes at his face, which tears have started to roll down.

        “Okay, we need to call your father, then. That makes you a witness.” Melissa says, and Stiles pauses, looking back at the other man. He remembers the purity ring that he saw at the pool. He looks back at Heather’s body. “Stiles?” She’d asked him to… She was a virgin. And Stiles had left after that because he couldn’t, for the life of him, stop thinking about _Derek_ as Heather had tried to seduce him. Stiles glances at both bodies, before he turns back to Melissa with slightly widened eyes.

        “Has anybody else been through here tonight. Any- Any other bodies or any-anybody missing?”

        “No. No bodies, but, um…”

        “What?”

        “Two girls? They brought the first one in, Kaitlyn, for a tox screen, and I overheard about her girlfriend, Emily. She just disappeared. I mean, they were out in the woods and-”

        “Nobody’s found her yet?” Stiles asks a bit shakily.

        “I don’t know.”

        “Okay, the first one.”

        “Kaitlyn.” Melissa clarifies.

        “Um, is she here? Is she here right now?”

        “I think so?”

        “Where?” Stiles starts moving, but Melissa stops him.

        “Okay, okay. Wait. Just wait a minute.”  
  
        “I have to talk to her.” Stiles says, looking over Melissa’s shoulder at the door.

        “Why?”

        “Because I think I know what’s happening.” Melissa looks hesitant, but she caves quickly, leading Stiles to the girl’s room. Stiles goes in, and he waits for Melissa to nod before turning to Emily, who looked ready to speak without prompting.

        “We weren’t doing anything bad. I’ve gone out there camping plenty of times.”

        “Yeah, but why tonight?” Stiles asks.

        “We wanted to be alone for one night. Emily lives with her mom, and I have three roommates. Not exactly romantic settings, you know?”

        “How long have you two been together?”

        “Three months.”

        “You wanted to ‘make it romantic’?” Stiles asks for clarification.

        “Yeah, it was- you know. Because, um-”

        “Because it was her first time.” Stiles finishes for Kaitlyn.

        “They’re- They’re gonna find her, right? Aren’t they?” She looks between Melissa and Stiles. Melissa isn’t able to make eye contact with the woman, and Stiles swallows thickly, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Kaitlyn. Melissa goes to stand outside, and Kaitlyn stares at Stiles with wide eyes. “They’ll-They’ll find her?” Her voice is shaky, and Stiles lets out a breath slowly, looking up at the woman.

        "I don’t know.” He says honestly.

        “No- They’ll find her.” Kaitlyn is starting to panic, her heart rate spiking. Stiles can hear it on the heart monitor.

        “Kaitlyn,” Stiles starts, and the woman’s lower lip is trembling as she hesitantly reaches for Stiles’ hand. Stiles allows her to slip her fingers between his, and he squeezes her hand lightly. “You need to know that whatever happens, it is _not_ your fault. Alright? You couldn’t have done anything to stop what happened.” Stiles starts, rubbing circles into Kaitlyn’s hand.

        “There- There were these guys with fangs and claws and bright red and yellow eyes. They- They didn’t do something to Emily, did they?” Stiles pauses in his circles, before continuing.

        “No. They didn’t do anything. The one with the red eyes and the one with brown hair and the one with blonde hair actually saved you.” Kaitlyn pauses.

        “You know them?”

        “Yeah. They’re my friends. But that’s not why I’m here. Kaitlyn, I’m going to find out what happened to your girlfriend. Alright?” Kaitlyn nods slowly. “But, you can’t breath a _word_ about the men to anybody, alright? Blame it on drugs. Say it was a panicked induced hallucination. Something. Say you can’t remember exactly what the men looked like. Deal?” Stiles asks, and Kaitlyn lets out a shaky breath, nodding her head a bit.

        “Deal.”

 

***

 

        Stiles stumbles into his room, barely managing to shrug off his jacket and kick off his shoes before tears start to appear in his eyes again. He shoves at his eyes forcefully, but the wolves can smell his depression before he can shove it away so he can break down later. There’s a low pitched whine to Stiles’ right, and the teen lets out a surprised _omph_ as Jackson suddenly picks him up, helping him into a pair of sweats before dragging him over to the bed where Erica, Boyd, the she-wolf, and Isaac are kind of curled around each other.

        Jackson climbs into the center of the pile, holding Stiles with a gentleness that Stiles has only seen about twice before (each after Stiles was injured pretty badly). He scowls down at the human, but Stiles just rolls his eyes, resting his head against Erica’s and bumping Isaac’s leg with his own. Boyd splays one arm over Stiles’ back, and the she-wolf nudges Stiles’ neck with her nose in a greeting before falling back asleep. Stiles feels some of the aching and sadness swirling in his chest start to calm and dissipate. He isn’t awake long enough to know how much the puppy pile really gets rid of.

 

***

 

        Stiles covers Heather back up with the blanket/thing, leaning against the table heavily. “So Boyd and Cora didn’t kill anybody?”

        “You’re gonna wish they did.” Stiles mutters.

        “Why?”

        “I’m not exactly sure yet, but… The other girl who was out in the woods, Emily? They’re gonna find her eventually. She’s one of them. Emily, Heather. The guy Lydia found at the pool? All three were virgins. And they’re all gonna have the same three injuries. Strangled, throat slashes, and head bashed in. It’s called a three fold death.” Scott is silent for a few moments.

        “So if they aren’t random, what are they?”

        “Sacrifices. Human sacrifices.” Stiles says, and Scott looks at the dead bodies around him. “I-I need to go talk to Deaton about something, alright? Tell the pack what’s up if I’m not home by one.” Stiles orders, and Scott rolls his eyes.

        “Yes, mom.” Stiles smacks Scott on the back of the head before he heads out to his Jeep, pulling out of the parking lot quickly.

 

***

 

        “Do you or do you not know what we’re dealing with?” Stiles asks Derek angrily, and the wolf lets out an equally pissed growl.

        “All I know is that they’re an alpha pack, alright? And they want something with me. I don’t know anything else.” Derek says, and some of the heat in his voice is replaced with a weariness that rivals Stiles’. The teen lets out a heavy sigh, tugging at his hair as he gets out of his Jeep.

        “Alright. Okay. I need to go now, Deaton’s waiting for me. Good luck with your research.” Stiles says before he hangs up and walks into the animal clinic.

        “Stiles?” Deaton calls from the back, and Stiles raises a brow.

        “Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing?”

        “Just finishing something. Head back here.” Deaton orders, and Stiles rolls his eyes before opening the gate and walking in, being careful to close it after he’s passed through the mountain ash barrier. “What can I help you with?” Deaton asks, glancing up at Stiles as he puts away jars of seemingly random things.

        “I- uh, I have a question.” Deaton raises a brow. “I mean, obviously I have a question. But I actually have two questions. About completely different things.”

        “Okay, well, what’s your first question?” Deaton asks with never ending patience that Stiles envies.

        “So… Is it possible for somebody who isn’t a wolf to have their eyes change colors?” Stiles asks, and Deaton pauses in his cleaning.

        “Normally I’d say if they were another supernatural being, but I’m assuming you’re talking about yourself?” Deaton asks, walking around the table to approach Stiles.

        “I- Yeah. I’m talking about me. It’s different than when Laura and I are in the same body and my eyes flash amber. It’s- She wasn’t even in the _room_ when it happened.” Stiles says, rubbing the back of his neck.

        “When did this happen?” Deaton asks, grabbing Stiles by the jaw and tilting his head in a few different directions.

        “At the school. Cora Hale and Boyd were three-fourths feral and I got them to calm down somehow? Cora was about to attack me, but then Boyd got all defensive and she calmed down a bit and then they kinda pinned me to a wall and refused to let go of me. Like, it was a forced puppy pile.” Stiles grimaces at his term, and Deaton raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment on the word. “I-I-I’m not exactly sure _when_ they started glowing, either. I just know they were when Cora walked over.”

        Deaton makes a small humming noise, narrowing his eyes a bit. “And what color _were_ your eyes glowing?” Deaton asks, shining a light in Stiles eyes.

        “Uh… I think it was silver? With a _little bit_ of red around the edges? But it might’ve been a grey or a really, _really_ light blue?” Stiles trails off a bit at Deaton’s pause.

        “I understand. What’s your other question?” Deaton asks, finally stepping away from Stiles as he continues cleaning up his ingredients for god knows what.

        “Do you think you could figure out a way to help us get rid of the alphas?” Stiles asks, and Deaton pauses.

        “Normally I’d say no, but…” Stiles stays tensely quiet as Deaton trails off  a bit. “If your eyes _did_ turn silver, no matter how briefly, I’d say there’s a good chance I know how to help you and your pack.”

        “... _Well_?”

        “You will want the pack to be here, I suggest calling them over and flipping the sign to closed.” Deaton says, and Stiles lets out an annoyed groan before he fishes his phone from his pocket and walks into the waiting room.


	12. Alternate Season Three I Guess (AKA New Plot Yo)

_This chapter is only about 2150 words because I kinda needed to set things up a bit for future chapters. Sorry about the shorter chap, guys. Pack Mom Stiles is coming up soon, though._

 

***

 

        “I’ve called some emissaries from other packs that the alpha pack has previously been a threat to, along with a few druids, and there’s something you can do to stop them.” Deaton starts, and Stiles frowns a bit.

        “I hear a but in there. Why is there always a but when it comes to your plans?” Stiles asks, crossing his arms. Deaton doesn’t grace him with a response. Not even a glance. _Rude_.

        “ _But_ -”

        “I told you.”

        “You aren’t going to like it.” He aims the words at Derek and Stiles. Which causes the human to full out frown. Derek’s face remains in it’s normal grumpy state. It’s silent for a few moments.

        “ _Well_?” Stiles half-snaps.

        “In every pack that has survived the alpha pack, they were left alone because of one singular thing. It also applies to the druids.”

        “Which _is_?” Stiles prompts.

        “The alphas and druids all had mates.”

        “I- What?” Stiles pauses, paling slightly.

        “The alpha pack usually only attacks packs with strong alphas, as they want new members. To make their pack stronger. But alphas with mates usually become insanely ill or die after their mates are killed. And the alpha needs to kill their entire pack before they’re allowed into the alpha pack.” Stiles pauses.

        “So we need to get Derek a mate? Is that it?”

        “It isn’t that simple. The mate needs to be from the pack, as his apartment already smells like you eight and Derek.”

        “It’s not possible for Derek to just suddenly _find_ his mate?” Stiles questions, and Deaton raises a brow at the slightly choked tone.

        “No, as nobody has moved into Beacon Hills in years, and you need to act _quickly_.” Stiles swallows a bit audibly.

        “Alright. Who’s stepping up to the plate?” Deaton raises a hand before anybody can volunteer.

        “It can’t be Isaac, Scott, Erica, Boyd, Allison, or Lydia.” Deaton says.

        “Why can’t it be one of us?” Isaac asks, not at all sounding disappointed as Derek is basically his _dad_.

        “You have already found your mates. Or, your wolves have. Jackson is halfway there, but he’d still be able to fool the alpha pack.” Deaton explains something clearly for once.

        “Derek still gets disgusted when he has to touch me. It can’t be me.” Jackson points out, and Stiles bites the inside of his cheek because _oh dear god pretending to be Derek’s mate is only gonna make this stupid crush/unrequited love a billion times worse isn’t it_. “And I’m dating Danny. I couldn’t do that to him.”

        “You couldn’t have just said ‘Stiles has to pretend to be Derek’s mate’?” Stiles questions, and Deaton shrugs. “Asshole.” Stiles realizes that Derek hasn’t said a _word_ in response to this predicament. “Are you- Are you okay with this?” Stiles feels red creeping up his neck, and he does his best to shove it back into hiding. Derek’s intense staring is absolutely _not_ helping.

        “Werewolves have very physical relationships with their mate or mates.” Derek starts, his tone no different than if he was talking about the damn _weather_. “Alphas are even worse than betas. I’d have to scent mark you twice a day. You’d need to wear my clothes and stay at my apartment. You’d have to tell your father that we’re in a relationship.” Stiles pales at the last piece.

        “I-”

        “Stiles, it’s the only way to get rid of the alpha pack.” Deaton interrupts, and Stiles sighs in defeat, his face flushing bright red.

        “Yeah, alright. I’ll do it.”

        “Wow, I didn’t now that you could be pale and blushing at the same time.” Jackson is elbowed in the ribs by Lydia, bless her.

        “Ass.” Stiles snaps, but there’s no real heat behind the words. Probably because all of it’s retreated to Stiles’ face, neck, and upper torso. “You’re going to be there when I tell my dad about our “relationship”.” Stiles snaps at Derek, who rolls his eyes.

        “Mhm.” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek again, before sighing heavily. He turns to leave.

        “C’mon, better just get the worst part done and out of the way.”

 

***

 

        Stiles is still staring at the closed door in front of his face with an open mouth, the bag in his hand feeling so _odd_. He’d been expecting his dad to flip shit and ground him for _months_ for dating an ex-suspect. He’d _arrested Derek himself_. Stiles definitely _hadn’t_ expected his dad to just give him an ‘ _If I don’t hear about it, I don’t have to do anything_ ’ and permission to stay at Derek’s whenever he wants.

        “What the actual _fuck_?” Stiles says to nobody in particular, and Derek shrugs as he steers Stiles towards his Jeep.

        “I thought he was going to shoot me, not invite me to come over whenever I felt like it.” Derek admits, speaking a bit slowly before he turns on his Jeep. He revs the engine a bit before pulling out of the driveway and taking off.

        “I- You need to fill me in on werewolf politics, or something. I can’t accidentally curse these people’s ancestors or something.” Stiles says, and Derek slowly turns to him, raising his brows slowly in one of the most judgemental looks that Stiles has ever had aimed at him. “Wow. I think that only my dad has given me a look more judgey than that one. And that was after I told him I wanted to go cliff jumping.”

        “You want to go cliff jumping?” Stiles shrugs, barely noticing the lack of judgement in the question.

        “I’d be more of an outdoorsy person if I wasn’t in constant danger with nearly no protection most of the time?”

        “Nearly?”

        “I made a mountain ash/steel bat.” Stiles says offhandedly, not actually seeing the feat as anything important.

        “You just _made_ a bat out of mountain ash?” Derek asks for clarification, and when Stiles sees his slightly raised brows, his face flushes a bit red.

        “Uh, yeah. No biggie.” Stiles murmurs, sliding down his seat a bit. Derek just makes a humming noise that doesn’t do a good job of showing how he feels about the bat, and Stiles quickly goes back to fumbling around with his phone.

 

***

 

        “Why is it so _cold_ in here? You’d think it’d be, I don’t know, regular temperatures considering that there’s usually about nine, maybe more people in your house? And where is the _furniture_. You and I are gonna fix your shitty building if I’m going to be living here.” Stiles complains from the lumpy couch he’s stretched over. Derek glances up from his book, having been sitting at the foot of the couch on the floor. “Can you, I don’t know, turn on the damn heat? It’s cold. Get me a blanket or _something_.” Stiles grouches. Derek lets out a long sigh and climbs to his feet like it’s the most difficult thing in the universe.

        “I-” Stiles chokes on his words as there’s suddenly one hundred and seventy two pounds of hunky werewolf pinning him to the couch. In an actually not at all sexual way. He’s managed to stretch himself over Stiles and plop down in a way that doesn’t at all crush the smaller human, and he’s breathing lightly near Stiles’ ear. He’s still reading his damn book, but one of his arms is wrapped around Stiles’ waist until the human stops trying to escape. “What- I- You- Um.”  
“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek orders, sounding not at all affected by his new position. Stiles swallows heavily, breathing slowly until his heart rate returns to normal. After about an hour, Derek changes their positions again, shifting around until Stiles is laying on top of him, the human using his chest as a pillow. He’s still reading, of course. He’s gotten half way through The Hobbit when he realizes that Stiles is actually _asleep_. Only then does he realize that he has a rouge hand that had been playing with the brunet’s hair.

        It takes another hour and a half for Derek to pass out, this time on his side with Stiles tucked against his chest, and his arms wrapped around the human’s waist.

 

***

 

        Stiles is cutting up chunks of meat, Derek’s face pressed into the place where his shoulder and neck meet, when the larger werewolf tenses, a growl ripping past his suddenly clenched teeth. Stiles stiffens, and Derek tightens his hold on his hips before he turns, staying in front of Stiles while also half-shoving him against his back. “Derek, no need to be so _hostile_.” A somewhat familiar voice mockingly scolds. Stiles doesn’t realize who it really is, until a man with a cane thing walks around the corner and into Stiles’ visual range.

        Something in Stiles shifts, giving the human an awful sense of vertigo for a moment, before he stiffens a bit more, standing impossibly straight. He moves so he’s only slightly behind Derek, more next to him than anything. Stiles can’t actually see Deucalion’s eyes follow him, even though that should be physically impossible, but he can _feel_ them take in his every move and zone in on his clenched fist. He takes a deep breath, sounding much more calm than he is, before he relaxes his hand slowly.

        “And who is _this_?” Stiles clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t respond to the judging tone. “An appealing piece of jailbait, maybe?” Derek noticeably stiffens, and Stiles doesn’t realize that he’s moving until his hand is already resting on the top-right part of Derek’s back. He pauses at the action, not noticeably, hopefully, and he’s about to move his hand away, but Derek seems to calm down a bit at the touch. He reaches over his shoulder, skimming his fingers over Stiles’ before moving to hold onto the hand.

        There’s a slight tug on Stiles’ hand, and he moves a bit closer. Deucalion tenses a bit, clenching his jaw before he takes off his glasses. Half-monstrous, blood colored eyes narrow in on Stiles, and the human somehow (impossibly) tenses _more_. Derek pauses as Deucalion performs a motion with his hand, and he lets out a huff of angry air, gripping Stiles by the shoulder and moving him in front of him. A half panicked noise slips past Stiles’ lips, but Derek shushes him, motioning Deucalion forward.

        The werewolf moves quickly, approaching Stiles at a rapid pace. The human isn’t able to back off, as Derek’s grip on him is made of freakin’ _steel_. Deucalion leans forwards, nostrils flaring as he takes in Stiles’ scent. The human is actually wearing one of Derek’s shirts, as the fucker refuses to do his own damn laundry until there’s _nothing_ left to wear, and Stiles has run out of tees and flannels.

        “A mate?” Deucalion questions.

        “ _My_ mate.” Derek corrects, his voice going growly and possessive and Stiles’ face and neck tint pink as a flash of arousal flares through him.

        “I see.” Deucalion says after a brief pause. His eyes flash with anger, but he obviously forced it down. “That’s disappointing. I had been looking forward to doing business with you. I will take my pack and leave Beacon Hills at the soonest possible date. Of course, I can’t leave without giving you something for your troubles. Aiden and Ethan will be happy to join your pack.” Stiles pauses, his eyes narrowing. Derek doesn’t hesitate with his response.

        “That is a generous gift, and Ethan and Aiden will be welcomed into the pack if they would like to join and have no ulterior motives.” Derek says, and Stiles nearly raises a brow when Deucalion turns to him, expecting an answer from him too.

        “You have the rest of the day to leave Beacon Hills. Derek’s other terms are acceptable.” Stiles says, and Deucalion nods slowly.

        “I understand. Aiden and Ethan will be coming to you at some point later today.” Deucalion says, and he turns to leave. He pauses at the door. “I’m sure both new and old packs will be glad the Hale Pack is back in business, with a strong alpha pair. Prepare for treaties to be revisited.” Deucalion warns, before he really does leave. Derek stares at the door for about three more minutes, before he finally relaxes. He then turns to Stiles.

        “This may need to stretch on for a longer period of time. Especially if other packs want to form treaties.” Derek says, and Stiles swallows thickly. On one hand, he’s ecstatic that he’ll be able to play house with Derek for a little while more. On the other hand, when this ends, it’s going to suck _major_ ass for the human.

        “Alright.” Stiles replies. It’s silent for a few moments, but then Stiles claps, breaking the silence. “Alright, Sourwolf. We’re doing laundry, and then we’re going to IKEA. I can _not_ live in this apartment without actual furniture any longer.”


	13. Alternate Season Three (AKA More New Plot Explanation)

_Aighties, so. I’m still having writers block on what was supposed to be Chapter 13, so here’s just a little thing that you guys can chill with as I try to unfuck my inner writer’s brain. It’s just a short thing that explains what’s going on in the original Chapter 13 so yeah sorry._

 

***

 

        Stiles groans in annoyance when he hears knocking, rolling over and out of the bed. He lands on the floor, but it doesn’t even phase him at this point. The teen scrambles to his feet gracelessly, and he pulls on the nearest shirt he can find. Of course, it’s a henley that’s a bit too big for him because, naturally, Derek never puts his clothes in the _fucking_ hamper that Stiles bought because of how often he trips over a pair of form fitting jeans.

        Stiles has basically moved into Derek’s house/apartment/ _thing_. Well, he’s _been_ moved into Derek’s space. His dad comes over every other Wednesday for either lunch or dinner, and almost all of Stiles’ things have been here for at least a month. He’s been living only at Derek’s for almost four months, and that’s after his dad had stopped him from staying at his house sporadically for a month.

        Stiles half-stumbles to the door, opening it half way as he pulls a hand through his messy hair, taming it pretty effectively. He figures it can’t be anything bad considering Laura is just chilling on the couch. “How can I help you?” Stiles asks the couple and the kid standing in front of him.

        “Is this… Alpha Hale’s house?” The wife asks, looking Stiles over with a raised brow. He glances down and yeah, he has pants on, so what the fuck?

        “Yes.” Stiles answers, and he feels something in him shift and the burning of his eyes, telling them they’ve changed to silver and red and _ah, fuck_. The man’s eyes widen and he elbows the woman before she says anything, his eyes and his daughter’s eyes flaring up amber and, _oh, werewolves and a homophobic human mate. Wonderful_.

        “I apologize. She’s… _new_ to this. She doesn’t understand protocol when addressing an alpha’s mate, and she grew up sheltered, and in a homophobic family.” The man tries to explain, and Stiles sighs.

        “She better change her attitude quick, or she’s gonna piss somebody off. C’mon in, Derek’s on his run right now, but I can call him. Do you guys want anything to eat? Drink?” Stiles asks, opening the door and letting the small family in.

        “I’m good, thank you.”

        “It’s no problem, really. I just got up. I have to make food anyways. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

        “I mean, if it’s no trouble…” The man trails off, and Stiles waves him off, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen table.

        “Go make yourselves comfortable. Do you want anything, sweetheart? Chocolate milk? Apple juice?” The three year old stares at him for a solid minute before nodding at her parents, confusing the hell out of Stiles.

        "Apple juice, please.” She says, and Stiles nods. He starts pulling out his phone to call Derek, but the alpha all but charges suddenly into the house.

        “Stiles?” He panics slightly, and Stiles fights the urge to furrow his brows.

        “In here. I was about to call you. We have some company.” Stiles calls from the kitchen, starting to grab things for french toast, hash browns, eggs, sausages, bacon, and- “ _Oh_ my god.” Stiles yelps in surprise when he’s suddenly almost tackled by one hundred and seventy two pounds of hot werewolf. “Hey there.” Stiles half laughs, letting himself pretend that him and Derek are in a real relationship when he smiles at the man.

        “Did you call the pack yet?” Derek asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes at the smiling man over Derek’s shoulder.

        “They literally _just_ got here. How the fuck did you even- Why are you _home_ so early?” Stiles questions, and Derek shrugs, face still stuffed between Stiles’ neck and his shoulder.

        “Something felt off.” Derek explains, and Stiles is quiet for a moment because he can feel Derek’s heartbeat and it stayed steady.

        “Alright, big guy. Call the pack and let me think of like fifty more things to cook. Hey, can you guys grab some more chairs? They’re back in the livingroom.” Stiles asks the strangers in his living space, and they nod and go get them.

        “I’ll go call the pack.” Derek says, pecking Stiles on the forehead before he heads out. The human stands there for a second before getting the rest of ingredients out for breakfast and starting on it.

 

***

 

        “So, what can we help you with?” Stiles asks the small family, all of which are sitting on the opposite end of the table.

        “Our pack, the Kinnison Pack , has been in a very bad situation for the last few months. We’ve been trying to reach out to the Hale Pack, as you’re now formed again and quite strong for a new pack, but our letters have been getting intercepted. Hunters have formed a treaty with an enemy pack, we don’t know which, as we’ve always been as polite and friendly as possible with all surrounding packs. The point is, they’ve been trying to wipe us out, and we’re unable to do anything about it because of their numbers.” Michael, the werewolf, tells the pack.

        “Would that be the cause of the lack of response when asked for help with the Alpha pack?” Derek asks, his voice a bit deeper and sounding much more formal than usual.

        “We haven’t been getting _anything_ out _or_ in, so it very well may be.” The woman, who Stiles has found is named Annabel, tells him.

        “What’s your situation health wise? Are you able to get enough food and water?”

        “They haven’t cut off that supply, as there _are_ humans that don’t know about the supernatural that live in the area. The hunters refuse to let that secret slip out. They _have_ managed to hack our systems, though. So we haven’t been able to send texts or emails to anybody. We aren’t able to call people either.” Michael says.

        “Danny could help with that.” Stiles points out, and Derek nods.

        “As long as it isn’t FBI level, I should be able to pass it in less than a week. In a couple days if it’s something almost basic.” Danny agrees.

        “Tell your families that we’re going on a vacation for the summer, pack enough things for a couple months, and come back here.” Derek orders, and the pack nods, moving to follow said orders quickly.

        “So you’ll help?” Annabel’s voice wavers a bit.

        “Of course we will.” Stiles says, and then he gets up to call his dad. “Start heading back, tell your pack the news. We’ll get there half an hour after you. Tops.” Stiles says before leaving the room.

 

***

 

        “Alright, thank you for allowing me to use your phone, Alpha Hale.” Alpha Kinnison, a smaller woman with a strong build, dark eyes, and darker hair, smiles at Derek, and the dark haired man nods.

        “Do you mind me asking what you were doing with it?” Derek asks.

        “Calling a few more packs for back up. Just a few. We have a kitsune pack, and two werewolf packs on our way.” The small woman tells both Derek and Stiles. The human’s a bit surprised at being acknowledged because in all honesty he isn’t used to it, but whatever. The alpha is a nice woman, and her pack is strong, and they need help.

        “You might wanna call in a- Sorry.” Stiles cuts himself off, rubbing the back of his neck as red dusts across his face.

        “No, please continue. I’m open to all options right now.” Stiles turns a bit toward Derek when he speaks.

        “We could- uh, call in the kanima pack?” Stiles trails off a bit, the statement sounding like a question. Derek turns to Alpha Kinnison, and the small woman is nodding.

        “How did a pack of kanima form?” She asks, and Stiles is rubbing the back of his neck again _god dammit_.

        “Well, they were all friends with this human who was kinda the unofficially appointed leader of their friend group, right? Like, a chick with strong character who’s a natural leader. This witch blew into town, and she messed up the spell when she turned them into kanimas and tried to bind them to her. They were already too tight with the first chick. Well, whenever they shift, the leader of the friend group, who’s completely human, is able to aim them in the right direction, or just put them away until they calm down. They helped us with the witch after she skipped town and came to ours a month ago.” Stiles explains.

        “That would be extremely helpful.” Alpha Kinnison agrees, and Stiles flushes a bit deeper at the praise.

        “I guess I’ll go call them, then.” Derek says, pulling out his phone again and moving to a place with better bars.

        “I’m gonna, uh, go check on my pack. It’s been nice talking with you, Alpha Kinnison.” She starts to say something, but Stiles doesn’t hear her as he’s already walking away and half surrounded by socially awkward betas and small children. The alpha watches them go with an amused expression.


End file.
